


Stop at any Time

by saltwatergirl



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Cheating/Infidelity, M/M, Memories/Flashbacks, Mild BDSM, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 34,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1588994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltwatergirl/pseuds/saltwatergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be a one night stand. They were supposed to get <i>it</i> out of their systems, once and for all. But weeks before Zayn’s wedding, Liam and Zayn are nowhere close to stopping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Four months before the Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains background Liam/Other Band Member (which I do not tag because of spoilers). There's also background Harry/Louis.  
> Thanks to Tehomet for the beta.

Liam watched the oscillating police lights bathe the SUV blue, red, then blue again. When they came to a halt at a traffic light, he squinted through the tinted windows trying to read the newspaper headlines. It was a futile task as the text was in Spanish. Or maybe Italian. He wasn’t too sure.  After a while, cities managed to appear the same. Regardless of the continent, they bore the same gleaming landscape of lights, the same deafening screams of fans, the same schedule of getting on stage and performing until every fibre of his being felt like lead. This, the touring and the constant eyes on him, had stopped being fun months back.

 A loud siren sounded and the vehicle began to move again. Then he heard it. A deep humming sound that got louder and louder the closer they got to the hotel. Not this again. He glanced at Louis who promptly scowled and inserted his earplugs before sinking deep into the plush leather seat. Liam felt himself tense when the vehicle slowed down to a crawl and he steeled himself for what would come next. They would have to push their way through the fans to get into the hotel. But then the SVU turned left while their police escort drove ahead cascading the sea of awaiting bodies into red and blue. He exhaled when their vehicle came to a stop in an alley. Swiftly the door opened and events proceeded with Preston smuggling them into the back entrance of the hotel like they were illegal tender and shoving the five of them into an awaiting lift.

The first to jump out was Harry as his room was on the ninth floor. He waved a tired goodbye to the rest of them before he walked out, dragging his overnight bag over the plush, cream carpet.  Their security had tried to get them on the same floor but the hotel was booked to the max due to a film festival happening in the same week. They ended up being dispersed, much to Paul's chagrin, onto various levels. Niall was up next, his floor being tenth.

“Goodbye, fellas,” Niall said before he got out. His steps were light and surprisingly sprite, considering the gruelling schedule of the day. He swiped his keycard on the second door from the lift and disappeared inside just as the lift doors were drawing shut. Each time they opened and closed Liam received a multi-floor peepshow of the Moroccan carpeting, vanguard paintings and eclectic marble statues that made up the hotel’s decor.

With Harry and Niall gone, the lift felt confined. Liam stood to the left his eyes fixed to the room floors as they lit up. Louis stood with his back to the closed lift doors so that he was facing them. Louis had said that most people faced the front due to a discomfort of being in an enclosed space with strangers. And because, in his mind, he wasn't like 'normal people' Louis did the opposite. It was annoying, to say the least. Louis’ room was on the eleventh floor, and when his number was up he stepped out backwards, did a dramatic low bow and said, “Adieu, fair gentlemen.” He spun on his heels and walked off.

In the restricted space of the elevator, Liam's fingers ached to twitch. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the blinking floor buttons, staring straight ahead, trying to ignore the fact that Zayn stood beside him. An impossible feat as Liam was all too aware that this was the first time he and Zayn were alone together since the wedding date had been announced.

When Zayn had first told them that he and Perrie were engaged, Liam hadn’t taken the information to heart. People got engaged every day. Just because there was an engagement didn’t mean that there would be a marriage. But then the date had been set. And the invitation had arrived, gold letters with a creamy white frame. Two names interlinked. _You are cordially invited_. That was the furthest he had read before he felt the jealousy burn like acid in his gut. He’d felt like punching something. He still did. His hand, his left one which Zayn couldn’t see, curled into a tight fist.

The lift pinged and the door swung open. They were on Zayn’s floor and Liam waited for Zayn to shuffle out  so  he  could  have  room  to  breathe,  but  Zayn  remained immobilised. Liam glanced at him where he stood still, long arms hanging loosely at his sides, head slightly tilted, his face neutral.

“One time,” Zayn said, not looking at Liam. “Just this one time.”

Heat flushed over Liam’s body. There was no question as to what Zayn was proposing. This thing had been thrumming between them from the first time they met,  an  energy  which  felt  like  their  bodies  were  being  drawn  together. A _pull_. They’d tried to deny it; they had gone out with various girlfriends. Zayn picked up girls when they toured and lived the rock-star life they had been thrust into by some absurd twist of fate. Yet _this thing_ between them lingered in the silence in their conversations. During interviews, when he sat next to Zayn, bodies pressed tightly, knee to elbow, Liam would steel himself not to startle when he felt the slight press of Zayn's knee against his, forcing himself to concentrate on the questions that the interviewer asked, despite Zayn’s scent, so thick and hot in his nostrils. Despite the warmth of Zayn's body, solid and strong, beside him. He would not allow himself to feel, or look, or want.

Not when he could never have.

“Why now?” Liam asked, turning to face Zayn. The lift doors began to close and Liam stopped them with his arm, his heart beating frantically.

Zayn faced him, his eyes dark liquid pools. “Because you want this. You want me.”

Liam snorted, “And you would just let me have a go at you out of the goodness of your heart?”

“We do this and you get it out of your system. We can go back to how things were before.”

Liam wanted to say that this was absurd; friends didn’t let friends fuck them out of sympathy. He wanted to protest that he didn’t want this, he was perfectly happy the way things were. He didn’t need Zayn to do this. But even as he opened his mouth to say all this and punctuate it with a Fuck You, he didn’t. Instead Liam grabbed Zayn and pushed him against the mirrored lift walls. 

“Don’t say things unless you mean them.” He pushed Zayn’s feet apart and thrust his thigh between Zayn’s, grinding his groin against him.

“I mean it.” Zayn’s words were warm against his skin. “Anything you want, just this one time.” 

Liam kissed him. It was a hard unforgiving kiss, their lips smashing against one another with no finesse. The lift door pinged closed and they were going up to Liam’s room in a slow ascend. When the doors re-opened he gripped Zayn’s leather jacket and dragged him to his room. The soft leather of Zayn’s jacket was warm and he could feel the sinewy muscles of Zayn’s arm under the far too many layers of clothing. Liam’s hand was trembling when he swiped the room card key. He didn’t want to let go of Zayn; he didn’t want to give Zayn the opportunity to come to his senses and leave. When the door opened he shoved Zayn in, spun him around and immediately bracketed him against the door.

“Let’s just make this clear,” Liam whispered, his hands roaming all over Zayn’s body. Spans and spans of skin for him to explore, but he knew exactly where he wanted to start. He shoved his hand down the front of Zayn’s jeans, not bothering with the zipper, right into his boxers.  It was a hot and tight fit but he managed. He gripped Zayn’s hard cock with his fingers and breathed out harshly into Zayn’s ear. “I want everything.”


	2. Two and a half months before the Wedding

The weeks and months rolled by as did the cities, once exciting but now just one long blur. Liam and Zayn went back to normal --or as normal as they were before they had sex. Zayn’s pending nuptials a looming shadow that hung over them. Everyone was talking about it. Who was invited? Would the rest of the lads serve as groomsmen? What was the bride wearing? Every time, the same fucking questions, the same repetitive interviews with the local TV shows, cameras flashing and fans screaming outside. Questions which Zayn, apparently, never seemed to tire of answering. Too bad Liam was tired of listening. So he sat back, his face schooled into a bored expression, listening to Zayn talk about the wedding. He waited for the subject to change to something where he could add his input.

Liam should have felt better. His lust for Zayn should have been extinguished. That had been the plan, hadn’t it? He would fuck Zayn out of his system. Before he had lingered on the ‘what would it be likes’. What would it be like to kiss Zayn? What would it be like to touch Zayn? What would it be like to press Zayn down on a bed and slowly drive his cock into him? Now he knew, and instead of vague hypothetical scenarios playing across his mind Liam had vivid memories. Zayn’s scent, familiar and heady in Liam’s nostrils; Zayn’s body, sweat-damp rubbing up against his; and the taste of Zayn, piquant and full and all-consuming. Memories so strong the thought of them had the ability to make heat flood his body, hot and heavy, and settle between his thighs.

Liam balanced the ankle of one foot on the opposite knee and re-focused on the interview. The interviewer was a man with a brow that was permanently furrowed and an air of surly despondence. His questions were posed like it was beneath his pay grade to be interviewing a boy-band and he would much rather be interviewing a member of a suspected terror cell. He was asking his next question, this time directed at Harry, something about whether Harry would ever consider shaving his hair off. Liam tuned them out and focused on the clock mounted on the corner of the hotel’s conference room. Two more interviews, a chat with a late night television host, a meet and greet with some billionaire’s daughter, then a fitting.

Today was one of those days that had Liam’s teeth clenching and his entire body flooding with conflicting emotions. He was beyond jetlagged and exhausted but he knew he would be too tired to sleep. He shifted in his seat and uncrossed his legs, stilling as his knee settled against Zayn’s leg. He balanced the microphone in his hands and sat back, pressing his leg against Zayn’s, this time with intent. In his peripheral vision he could see Zayn wearing his interview smile. It was close enough to his real smile but you had  to  really  know  him  to  tell  the  difference  between  the  two. Liam was overcome with the urge to vanquish the smile. Why should Zayn be relaxed and free when Liam was mired down by the events of that night? Why was he the one who still bore Zayn’s indelible fingerprints all over his body when Zayn had washed Liam’s down the drain, along with the sweat and come, the very next morning? Why was Liam the one who had found that night unforgettable? Why was he left with the sickening realisation that one night with Zayn would never be enough?

Liam pressed his thigh harder against Zayn’s leg. The change in Zayn’s expression was subtle, the smile faltering. Liam answered the next question, what were the boy’s plans for the future post the end of the current tour and the imminent (implied not stated) termination of the band? Liam gave his default answer, how happy they all were being part of the band and they were just enjoying the ride.

Everyone nodded along, everyone, that is, except Zayn who raised his microphone and said, “I’m looking forward to getting married and being a newlywed--especially the honeymoon.” Louis gave a suggestive whistle and slapped Zayn’s back. Liam fought the stream of invectives which threatened to escape his throat and knocked his knee against Zayn’s, harder this time, causing Niall, who was seated on his left, to glance at them. The interviewer, nonplussed by the answer, gave a lacklustre thank-you and closed the interview.

Their tour manager, Paul, chatted to their current interviewer, shook his hand before he approached them to say that the next interview had been delayed until tomorrow due to the journo getting into some fender bender. The gist was they were now inexplicably free for an hour before the press junket.  Harry instantly got up and walked out. Louis stared vacantly at where Harry had disappeared to before stating to no one in particular that he would go video-chat his girlfriend and then made his way out the door.  Niall took out his phone, probably checking out the latest scores on the rugby match. Liam felt reckless as a sudden burst of courage ran through his body and made him think, _Fuck it, fuck it all_. He jumped to his feet, startling Zayn.

“We need to talk,” Liam said to Zayn. Niall looked up, glanced between them with a quizzical eyebrow raised. Zayn stood, looking amused which infuriated Liam more. Niall, choosing to not get involved in whatever beef that was transpiring between them, pocketed his phone, and began to walk towards the door.

“I have a game to watch,” Niall said. “Later.”  The news crew were still packing away the cameras and microphones. The rest of their tour team were crowded over laptops, checking schedules and meeting times and arguing amongst themselves about flight bookings for the next city.

“Not here,” Zayn said. Finally, something they both agreed about.

“Follow me.” Liam walked out of the room, not waiting to see if Zayn was following him. But he heard the soft tread of Zayn’s footsteps and he felt incautious, aroused and angry. The first door he saw he opened and stepped inside. He had come upon a dimly lit supply cupboard, with racks of cleaning products, mops and brooms scattered around the small enclosed space. He waited for Zayn to step inside before he shut the door, leaned against it and crossed his arms.

“What the fuck was that?” Liam asked.

“What was what?” Zayn asked.

“I can’t wait to get married so I can bang my wife 24/7,” Liam said, mocking Zayn’s accent.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You suggested it, same difference.”

Zayn stepped closer, standing so near that Liam could feel his body heat. “Why does what I’ll do during my honeymoon bother you so much?”

“It doesn’t,” Liam spat out. “It’s just such a pity that you work so hard to make everyone believe in this sham relationship.”

“Me and Perrie is as real as it gets.”

“Yeah, keep repeating that and maybe you’ll convince yourself.” Liam said.

“Maybe you’ll convince yourself that you don’t want to fuck me again.” Zayn said. Liam breathed out harshly through his nose, ready to protest that it wasn’t true, he'd been there, done that, was no longer interested. A lie.

“Don’t make it sound like it was one-sided. You wanted it as much as I did.”

“So you know what I want now, huh?” Zayn said. His eyes flickered down to Liam's lips before he raised them. “The difference between you and I, is that I don’t see the need to get all messed up in the head over things.”

“It’s that cut and dried?” Liam swiped his tongue across his bottom lip and pressed closer to Zayn. “We were attracted to one another, so one fuck should have sorted all those feelings, good and proper?” Zayn didn’t answer. Liam's voice dropped to a whisper.   “So everything I’ve felt since then has been in my head, you don’t feel it too?” Liam sank down onto his knees keeping his eyes fixed on Zayn as he unbuttoned Zayn's pants and drew his cock out. He breathed over it.

 Zayn exhaled harshly.

“Feel free to tell me to stop at any time,” Liam said with a mocking smile. He pressed his lips closer to Zayn’s cock. Liam licked up the length of it before he sucked on the head, drawing Zayn into his mouth. Zayn wasn’t fully hard yet but definitely on his way there. Liam mouthed around the head of Zayn’s cock, before he resumed the sucking, focusing on drawing as much of it into his mouth as he could. That night they spent together, this was the one thing that he wished he had done. He had wanted to taste Zayn so much it hurt. But he had wanted to fuck him more and he hadn’t drawn things out in case Zayn changed his mind and decided to stop.  Liam moaned around Zayn’s cock and he was so turned on he reached for his own jeans, unbuttoning them with his free hand before shoving his hand into his pants, wrapping a hand around himself.

Zayn threaded his fingers through Liam's hair, and Liam moaned his encouragement as he sucked harder, using his free hand to fondle Zayn’s balls. Zayn’s moans of pleasure urged Liam on, his fingers squeezing and teasing, lingering in areas which got him the loudest moans.

Then Zayn was coming and Liam never wanted it to stop, he wanted to be here on his knees with Zayn's cock in his mouth, filling his throat with come. He didn't want to sit next to Zayn, listening to him talk about getting married. Liam didn’t want to smile and pretend that it didn't hurt. He swallowed and pulled back to lick at Zayn’s softening cock while he stroked himself, once, twice and soon he was curling over, open mouthed and gasping as he felt his orgasm take over his body.

 

***

Later they sat for another interview, this time Niall insinuating himself between them. But it didn’t matter to Liam because when he ran his tongue across the inside of his teeth he could still taste Zayn's come. He knew, no matter what Zayn said, he too couldn’t stay away from the thing between them.  

It would happen again, it was just a matter of time.


	3. Twenty-three days before the Wedding

The tour came to an end and Liam was back at home. The weather was shitty, so he stayed indoors most of the time catching up on TV shows he had missed while he was touring. The English paparazzi were particularly aggressive and any step he took outside his door, he was greeted with flash bulbs, zoom lenses and microphones being shoved in his face.

Coming back home was different. He should have missed home more than he did. Away from the lights and the screaming fans, his home felt too quiet. Liam knew the rest of the guys felt the same, but none of them would ever admit it.  He sat in front of his blank plasma screen, bored out of his mind when his iPhone vibrated. He checked it and felt his pulse accelerate.

“I need 2 c u,” the text from Zayn read.

“When & where?” Liam responded.

Zayn sent him the details. Liam read out the address and searched for it on his phone. It was low-key, very low-key, out in Higher West Hatch a few kilometres outside Taunton. Not quite the middle of nowhere but definitely close. He threw his overnight bag together and considered his options. A taxi was out the question. With the paps on full alert, his location would be up online in a matter of minutes. Preston would be his best shot. Preston was more than capable of shaking off the most determined paparazzi. Liam called him, he asked if Preston could get an out-of-town lift, emphasizing that he needed privacy (not that Liam ever needed to tell Preston that). The man was as discreet as they came.  Preston replied that he’d be there to pick Liam up in half an hour. “Thank you,” Liam said as he hung up.

Sure as clockwork, half an hour later Preston arrived to pick him up in a VW Polo. To lose any journos who may have followed them they drove to Heathrow Airport and left the Polo in the long-term parking. They left Heathrow in a Mercedes S63 AMG that Preston had hired and drove to Higher West Hatch. The dimming London skyline  was  quickly  replaced  with  rolling  green  hills,  and  the  traffic  went  from bumper to bumper,  to one car every few kilometres.

“Go 2 Cottage 110, the door’s unlocked.” A new text from Zayn read. White letters bathed in a blue  background  shouldn’t  have  the  ability  to  take  his  cock  from  mildly interested to rock hard in a few seconds − but they did. Liam typed out his response. “B there soon.”  He had the urge to press his palm against the crotch of his jeans where his hard-on tented the denim. He was in the backseat, the lower half of his body hidden from Preston. But if Preston happened to glance in the rear-view mirror… Liam’s flushed face would probably indicate just what his hands were doing. So he kept them fixed by his side and counted to one hundred, watching the sky bleed streaks of grey.

 

***

The sky was a dark velvet by the time Preston pulled up to the exterior of the B&B. He helped Liam get his bags from the boot and handed them over to Liam.

“Thank you,” Liam said and he meant it. When they were in the UK, it wasn’t Preston’s job to drive him around.

“When do you need a pick up?” Preston asked, gazing out over the hillside.

“Uh – I’m not sure.” Liam hadn’t asked Zayn how long they would be out here.

“Call or text me when you know.” Preston nodded his goodbye and walked back to the driver’s side and got in. That was one of the things Liam liked about Preston, he didn’t pry and he didn’t judge. He watched the Mercedes' lights come on. Preston drove away until his rear lights where nothing but fireflies on the horizon.

Liam pulled his jacket tighter around himself as he felt the chill of the November night settling in his bones. He walked down the cobbled path, passed the lit sign which read ‘Reception’. The rooms were in ascending order. The first were the single set cottage houses, one-zero-four, one-zero-five before he passed a sign diverging into two paths and spotted cottage one-zero-ten.

It was a single cottage, with wide windows and a path that had a multitude of garden gnomes on either side of it. Cosy, domestic looking, and hardly the type of place he’d expect to find Zayn. Liam pulled his luggage up the path and paused in front of the door, his knuckles poised in the air, remembering that Zayn had said it would be open. Liam reached for the handle and opened the door. The cottage was dimly lit by a small ancient analogue TV playing some sixties film in the corner of the large room. On the bed, Zayn sat, his head against the headboard, the remote resting in his lap.

“Hey,” Liam said as he shut the door softly behind himself. He put down his suitcase, hung up his coat and approached the bed to stand awkwardly at the foot.

Zayn smiled his lazy smile. “You made it.”

Liam looked around. “This place is an interesting choice.” There were two ancient sofas in front of the telly. They had a fading floral design that looked like it was in the December of its long life. In the corner there was a cosy tea set similar to the one his granny owned. The walls were lined with pastel coloured wallpaper and framed pictures of cats. A very interesting choice, indeed. Very not Zayn.

“I wanted to be somewhere quiet.”

“Well, there’s plenty of that here, mate.” Liam kicked off his shoes before he settled next to Zayn on the bed and nudged Zayn’s shoulder. “Why am I here?”

 “I’m getting married,” Zayn said softly.

“I think I may have heard something about that somewhere.” Liam smiled trying to lighten the mood. Zayn looked so goddamn sad.

“My entire family will be there,” Zayn said. “Every single conversation I’ve had with them in the past three weeks has involved the fucking wedding.” Zayn went silent so the low hum of the televised voices became the only sound in the room.

Liam knew he should be a real friend to Zayn for once. He should tell Zayn that he loved Perrie, that he was suffering from a bout of wedding jitters, and that everyone went through them. Liam would call Preston, tell him to turn around and pick them up and they would drive Zayn straight into the waiting arms of his bride-to-be. If he was a good friend to Zayn, he wouldn’t get a cheap thrill from the realisation that Zayn’s irises were dilated and his clothes bore the faint whiff of weed.

“We shouldn’t be here, alone together,” Zayn whispered. “I don’t know why I texted you.”

“Did it involve this?” Liam asked as he pulled Zayn down on the bed, and threw a leg over him so that their bodies were aligned. He pressed his groin against Zayn's. The TV remote was between their bodies; Liam pushed a hand between them, grabbed it and threw it behind him before he resumed his slow thrusts against Zayn’s body. He looked down at Zayn who had his eyes half-closed and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Fuck,” Zayn gasped out before rolling around so he was on top of Liam, straddling him, settling his knees either side of Liam’s body. Zayn lowered his head and kissed Liam. Zayn’s lips tasted like tobacco and coffee and Liam craned his head up to slot their mouths together more evenly. Zayn pulled back, pressing a palm against Liam’s chest. “We said we would stop.”

“I said I would if you told me to and I meant it,” Liam said. He raised his head eager to feel Zayn’s lips against his again. But Zayn pulled back further, his eyebrows knitted in concentration as he stared down at Liam.

“This can’t keep on happening.” Zayn shrugged off the jacket he wore and pulled off his T-shirt.

“Uh uh,” Liam said, absently.  His eyes were drawn to Zayn's tattooed skin.

“I’m being serious.” Zayn held Liam’s chin between his fingers “When we leave this room, it’s over.  We can’t keep doing this. It’s not healthy.” When Liam huffed out a breath in reply, Zayn’s eyes narrowed. “What was that?”

“It’s funny, you telling me what’s healthy.”

“Meaning?”

“You always find a reason to screw your relationships up.”

Zayn rolled off Liam and sat up against the headboard. “I love Perrie; I’ve got an image of her tattooed onto my skin.” Zayn raised his arm to show Liam. “You’re one to talk, you’re out every night fucking around with those stupid friends of yours. When was the last time you’ve spent time with Sophia?--Quality time? And I'm not talking about you having her be your plus-one at some event you're forced to attend.”

“It’s different between me and Sophia.”

“Isn’t she your girlfriend? Aren’t you supposed to be committed to her?” Zayn’s eyes narrowed. “Since you’re this pillar of virtue, maybe you can explain why you’re here fooling around with me?”

“I’m not in love with her,” Liam shouted. “If I was-I mean I wouldn’t-”

“Fuck around behind her back like I've done to Perrie?” Zayn said.

Liam covered his face with his hands, missing the weight of Zayn’s body on top of him. “You’re right. We can’t keep saying we’re going to stop and just keep doing it.” It was easier to talk like this when he couldn’t see Zayn. “It’s just-- I miss you so much sometimes. And everything keeps changing and after this next tour I don’t think I’m ever going to hang out with you. Not properly, like we did when we were still back at the house. We’re set on this path and it keeps going and going and sometimes I just want off. I want my life back.”

“Like it was like before the show?”

“No,” Liam shook his head. “Remember those first days at Harry’s house and how excited we were? It felt like we were friends on the verge off this huge thing. We were so clueless. But we were all in it together. I don’t know, united. It would have been different if we didn’t have one another.”

“I’ll always be your friend,” Zayn said. Liam felt Zayn relax next to him. He knew Zayn would always be part of his life and he would always be a part of Zayn’s. That part was indisputable. But it was the emotions that raged within him that were the problem. It was the acidic jealousy he felt when he saw Zayn and Perrie. It was those moments when they were on a plane and Zayn slept on his shoulder and he just wanted the world to halt so he could savour it. It was in the moment when they finally surrendered, that night, their one night, where he could have everything he wanted and he realised he didn’t want Zayn for just for one night. He didn’t want Zayn just as a friend.

“And you’ll always be mine,” Liam said, feeling the bitter sting of tears against his eyelids. It was easy then, to just hold Zayn and allow the soft hum of the telly to lull them to sleep.


	4. Twenty-two days before the Wedding

Liam was woken by the press of lips on his neck. He felt discombobulated for a moment, unsure where he was. He opened his eyes and he saw that the room was dark but he knew the shape of the body next to him. “Zayn…” Liam moaned.

“Shhh,”Zayn said, licking along his neck. Liam shivered at the sensation, and settled back into the bed, letting himself enjoy Zayn’s body pressed up against him, and the sweet undulation of Zayn’s tongue on his skin. He felt Zayn’s teeth nip at his neck, then cool air being blown. He reached out and grabbed Zayn’s hand, guiding it down his stomach to his crotch.

“You have no idea, do you?” Liam said as Zayn gripped his hard cock through his trousers. “You have no idea how crazy you make me.” Liam gulped, acutely aware of how fucking turned on he was. He wanted to come right the fuck now. Why hadn’t they done this last night? Why were his clothes still on? Liam reached down between their bodies and started to tug at Zayn’s zipper.

“Not yet,” Zayn whispered. “I want to do this slowly.”

Liam let his hands fall to his side. He relaxed back into the bed as Zayn placed a gentle kiss on his lips, slipping his tongue into Liam’s mouth. Liam raised his arms, encircling Zayn around the waist, pulling Zayn on top of him. Zayn let go of Liam’s cock and raised his hand to cradle Liam’s face, deepening the kiss. He thrust his tongue into Liam’s mouth, his hips grinding down on Liam’s, rubbing their erections against one another. The sensation was brilliant despite the layers of clothes between them. He could come like this, Liam realised, fully clothed, on his back with Zayn’s lithe body pressing down hard against his, Zayn’s tongue fucking into his mouth and blood pounding too hot in his veins. It felt right to relinquish all control. He wanted to say it. _Do whatever you want to me, I'm yours._ Liam couldn't form the words, he moaned and bucked his hips, meeting the gentle thrust of Zayn’s. It didn’t matter, whatever awaited them outside of that door. Liam didn't have to wonder if he could sit through the wedding ceremony and congratulate Zayn on his big day. All of those things were a distant haze in a very far off future. Right now, Liam had this. He had Zayn. When he felt Zayn place his hands on his hips, stilling him he realised his movements had gotten erratic and he had gone from languishing in the sensation to actively seeking an orgasm.

“Do you want to come?” Zayn whispered, his fingers pressing harder into Liam’s hips as he forced Liam to still.

“Not like this.”

“How?”

“I want you to fuck yourself on my cock,” Liam said. Fucking Zayn had been the highlight of that night. Best porno Liam had ever seen − ever lived. Liam had spent many moments replaying every detail. Most of the sex he'd had after hooking up with Zayn had pretty much sucked.   _I'm really, really tired_ , he had told Sophia when she tried to blow him one night. _I’m fucking plastered_ , he had told the girl who he had flirted with before inviting back to his hotel room, and she had seemed content to cuddle against him, holding his hand between her own.

Zayn leaned forward and claimed Liam’s mouth with his own. He ran his fingers under Liam’s shirt, rubbing languid circles on Liam’s skin. He pushed the shirt up and over Liam’s head. Liam raised his hips up to help Zayn pull down his jeans and pants. Zayn placed a soft kiss on the corner of Liam’s mouth. On auto-response, Liam’s tongue darted out to capture the taste of Zayn in his mouth. Zayn pressed his lips firmly against his and they were now properly snogging. It seemed like Liam’s entire universe had narrowed down to a moment and there was nothing else he needed. He just wanted to lie there and take Zayn’s kiss, he wanted to let Zayn convey with his tongue and lips all the things they were and everything they could never be. Liam ran his fingers through Zayn’s short hair, caressing Zayn’s scalp with his finger-tips, relishing the shudders that came from him. He did it again seeking that response. Liam’s fingers lowered to the back of Zayn’s head, just above Zayn’s neck.

“It’s not just about the sex, you know,” Liam gasped out in between Zayn’s soft kisses. His lips remained parted as Zayn kissed him once more, with finality, before pulling away. He opened his eyes to look up at Zayn who was staring down at him, eyebrows furrowed, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. Liam wanted to smooth out the creases on Zayn’s forehead with his fingers. More than anything else he wanted Zayn’s lips, now red and wet and so sinfully sexy, back on his, kissing him. “I’ve always wanted something... more from you,” he admitted. “Even when we were on the show I just always wanted to hang around and be close to you.”

“I remember, you were always looking at me back then,” Zayn said. “But you never tried anything.” Liam closed his eyes, the rawness of Zayn’s words too much for him to handle.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me as much as I wanted you.” It scared him to admit this. Liam spoke quickly, pushing the words out before he lost the courage to say them. Zayn had to know. “You were just so beautiful and I was me. You know what I looked like back then. I’m the guy who no one could remember, ‘there’s a fifth bloke what’s- his-face,’ that was me. I was awkward, and I had stupid hair. And you were always you - beautiful. You didn’t even try; you were just so perfect. And I always wanted to look at you. I didn’t even know what it was I was feeling and, fuck, I didn’t think there was a remote chance that you'd ever think of me that way.”

“Liam.” Zayn’s voice was soft but commanding. “Liam,” Zayn said again. Liam opened his eyes. The frown was now replaced with a soft look in Zayn's brown eyes, and a gentle smile played on Zayn’s lips. “You were cute with that hair.”

“It was God-awful. I was a kid playing at being Justin Bieber,” Liam said, remembering his hairstyle.

“I also liked the curls.”

“Those were just dreadful. It felt like I was Tom Ripley-ing Harry. I was accused of as much.” Zayn lowered his head and placed a kiss on Liam’s throat, just above his birthmark. When he spoke his breath was a warm, moist fan across Liam’s skin.

“Personally, my favourite was the buzz-cut.” Zayn bucked his hips down against Liam’s. “Made it damn difficult to deny just how irrefutably hot you were.” He stilled, looking up, meeting Liam’s eyes, bit his lips and broke into a shy smile. “But that wasn’t the first time. Liam, I’ve always seen you, even back at the boot-camp. I remember watching you perform and I got goose bumps and thought that you would be the one I needed to watch out for, that you would win. And then you would _look_ at me and I wanted you to just do something but you never did and I couldn’t, not then. And that night I felt it was our last chance, that if we didn’t-- if I didn’t.” Zayn licked his lips. “I had to know. Because I had an idea in my head of what it could be like between us and that night, it just exceeded everything I ever thought it’d be like.”

Liam stared up at Zayn, surprised. Zayn, who was so naturally reticent, had said all of this to him. Liam cleared his throat. “You weren’t too shabby yourself.”

Zayn laughed.  “We were once voted ‘shaggers’ of the year or some nonsense like that.”

“I think that award was mostly for Harry.”

“Perhaps.” Zayn pressed forward and bit Liam's neck, causing Liam to startle.

“Let’s try to earn our retention of the title.”

“God yes,” Liam breathed out. He placed his hands on Zayn’s hips and gripped hard. Zayn kissed his way down his torso and licked one of his nipples, causing Liam to buck his hips. He didn't want to stop. He wanted Zayn now, wanted to flip Zayn over, undress and fuck him until he wouldn't recall his own name let alone Perrie’s. But this was Zayn’s show. Forget the days in the all too near future that they would never have to do this again. No slow Sunday love-making. No long-weekends away. No anniversaries. This was all they could ever be. This was all he would ever have. So if Zayn wanted slow, he could give him slow. He’d had his one night; this was now Zayn’s turn to have him.

Zayn sucked on the skin just above his aureoles, Liam was sure that would leave a mark. He would return to Sophia like this, wearing the remnants of Zayn’s kisses on his skin. Liam should’ve felt bad about or at the least ashamed of himself but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Zayn eased his mouth down on Liam’s cock. Liam bit back a gasp; it was amazing because it was Zayn. Zayn with his gorgeous lips wrapped around Liam's cock. Zayn moaning like a slut--as if it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Like Liam’s cock was a _fucking gift_.  Zayn went about it slowly. Liam wanted to hold tight onto Zayn’s head, fuck into his mouth and just use him.

Liam reached his hand up and grasped the back of Zayn’s head. “Stop,” Liam said, his voice a hoarse whisper. Zayn pulled off him and looked up, his lips swollen and wet, and the thrumming desire in Liam traipsed from hard and aroused, to savagely hungry. Liam ran his thumb over Zayn’s bottom lip, feeling how plump it was. “I need to fuck your mouth,” he said as he inserted the tip of his thumb between Zayn’s lips and began to do with his finger what he really wanted to do with his cock. “And I’m not going to be gentle about it.”

Zayn sucked on Liam’s thumb, closing his eyes, causing Liam’s cock to pulse. “Do it.”

“Come up and sit against the headboard,” Liam instructed. Zayn gave Liam’s thumb one last lick before crawling off Liam and sitting up against the headboard. Liam got up and hoisted his thigh over Zayn’s, before kneeling. As he eased his cock into Zayn’s mouth, a shiver shot down his spine, and he groaned. “Fuck, Zayn.” He balanced with one hand, his other hand wrapped around his cock. Zayn sat back, eyes closed, taking what Liam gave him. “Open your mouth wider,” Liam said. His voice was strained, every cell in his body taut and aroused. Zayn opened his mouth wider, taking another inch of his cock. “Yeah, just like that.”

Liam began to thrust into Zayn’s mouth, gently at first, sussing how Zayn fared. Zayn, sensing his concern, placed a hand on Liam's buttocks, and pulled so Liam’s cock went a bit deeper. His concern dissipated and he began to really fuck Zayn’s mouth, going deep, hitting the back of Zayn’s throat before easing back, hearing the slick sound of his cock in Zayn’s mouth. He kept at it until he felt the tell-tale buzz in his lower spine; if he didn’t stop he was going to shoot his come down Zayn’s throat and the thought was so hot, his hips quickened. He stilled and pulled out, pressing hard at the base of his cock as he watched the state he had left Zayn’s mouth. His bottom lip was bruised a dark red and even more swollen. Saliva threaded from it, linking to his cock.

“Fuck.” Liam leaned forward to lick Zayn’s full bottom lip before kissing him hard. Zayn kissed him back before pulling away and pushing Liam onto his back. He leaned away as he pulled off his trousers and pants. Liam’s eyes settled on Zayn’s cock and he knew, at some stage, before the weekend was over, he wanted to have it inside him. Zayn gave his cock a few lazy tugs before he leaned to kiss Liam.

“Come here, I want to suck you off,” Liam said.

Zayn crawled over Liam, feeding his cock into Liam’s open mouth. Liam’s head craned back, unable to dictate the pace of the blowjob. It was strange, sucking Zayn’s cock in that position. Liam raised his hand, gave Zayn’s arse a smack as he sucked him. Zayn gave him careful, gentle thrusts, and was so sweet, despite the fact Liam had ruined his mouth earlier. Liam gave Zayn’s arse another hard smack, the sound loud as a gunshot in the quiet room, his meaning clear. _Do me harder, deeper. I can take it._ Zayn exhaled sharply and began to really fuck Liam’s mouth, his thick cock strangled out all thoughts in Liam’s head. He moaned around Zayn’s cock and felt tears, sharp and bitter, stinging his closed eyelids from the pain of keeping his jaw so wide open.

He gripped Zayn’s arse harder, focused his breathing through his nostrils even as he felt all air in his lungs being stolen away by Zayn’s reckless thrusting. Yet he wanted more. Liam loosened his jaw and Zayn eased the rest of the way down until he felt Zayn’s pubic hair brush against his face.

“Liam,” Zayn gasped out and then hot come was hitting the back of Liam’s throat and he swallowed around it, tears streaming down his cheeks from the lack of oxygen and the pressure of Zayn’s cock pushing against the back of his throat. Zayn dragged his fingers through Liam’s hair as he pulled out. A stream of come that Liam hadn’t swallowed spilled from his mouth and ran down his chin. Liam’s eyes were still closed when he felt Zayn wipe at his tears before licking at the come that was on his chin and his lips, and finally kissing him. “I came so hard I lost feeling in my legs,” Zayn whispered. He reached down and gripped Liam’s cock loosely. “Are you ready to fuck me with this hard cock?”

“I want you to ride me,” Liam said through raw lips, his voice cracking on the word ride, he reached and stilled Zayn’s hands. “I want to watch you.”

Zayn let go of his cock and got off the bed. He went to his suitcase and pulled out lube and a condom which he carried with him back to the bed. He got on his back, parting his legs, exposing himself to Liam. Liam gripped his cock with his hand and stroked himself, transfixed by the sight of Zayn’s finger, now glistening with lube, disappearing into his body. Liam forced his hands to still but when Zayn let out a breathy moan as he finger-fucked himself, the urge to jerk-off grew more strong and urgent. Liam sat on his hands, the only way he could keep from touching himself. Zayn was writhing on the bed, hips bucking up to meet the slow thrust of his own fingers. When he spoke, it was so soft that Liam barely heard. “Huh?”

“You’re the only person who’s ever been inside me,” Zayn said, as he looked up at Liam, his eyes glazed. “I didn’t think I would want it so much. I’ve done this myself a few times since we fucked, and every time I did it, I wished it was your cock.”

The image of Zayn finger-fucking himself like this, maybe in some hotel room, or in the bunk bed in the bus, seared itself into Liam’s brain. His cock throbbed and he felt pre-come bead at the tip. “Zayn, come here.”

Zayn sat up and eased his warm body against Liam, smelling like fresh sweat. Liam pulled his hands from underneath himself, placed them on Zayn’s butt and brushed a finger against Zayn’s entrance. They both hissed. His heart was beating erratically in his chest and he wanted to be inside Zayn so badly it hurt. His entire body was on edge; it was an endless span of hot, frayed nerve endings all leading to his cock. “Pass me the lube.”

Zayn reached around and gave Liam the plastic tube. Liam eased some onto his fingers before circling the rim of Zayn’s hole, feeling the tight heat that was sucking him in. Liam pushed his index finger in, he felt the heat rushing from his finger and settling on his cock. Liam eased another finger in and began pushing in and out of Zayn in a slow but steady rhythm. He withdrew his fingers and reached up to kiss Zayn on the mouth.

“I’ll get on my back and you’ll get on me,” Liam said. He got onto his back and watched as Zayn began to straddle him, before pausing and reaching across the bed to the condom. “Leave it, we could do it raw.” The idea of being with Zayn, really being with him, without a thin layer of latex separating them seemed hot. He wanted to fuck Zayn, come deep inside of him, pull out and watch Zayn’s hole glistening with his come. It was primal; he knew that. It was a way for him to stake his claim on Zayn, mark him up, get inside him in ways Perrie never could.

There was a pause before Zayn turned to face him. “I haven’t always been careful with the girls I’ve slept with.” Liam studied the slope of Zayn’s shoulders and the almost shy way he was telling him this.

“But you have gotten tested since, um, I mean with the wedd…” Liam trailed off, feeling a bit lost for words. That night, their night, they had used condoms and been safe. It was how he ventured his way through all the casual sex he had on the road. Sex with Zayn was anything but casual.  

“I’ve had tests done. They were fine,” Zayn said. “But I was really in a bad way this past year. Downright stupid, and sometimes tests aren’t one hundred percent accurate and I'm only going for a proper blood panel next week and I don’t want to ever put you at risk.” He scuffed a hand through his messy hair, his eyes shifted to the mattress where the condom lay. “You’ve always been above all this, Liam. When you were with Danielle, you never once- you were always just with her. I’ve always admired that about you.”

Liam swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.  It should be so easy to speak the truth and just utter the words but when Zayn looked up at him through his lashes, his face open with admiration, Liam couldn’t say it. It hadn’t been easy when they had been on the road for the first big tour. He had loved Danielle and missed her. Yet his yearning for Zayn had been so strong, much bigger than his desire to be a good, faithful boyfriend and he had strayed. Liam wanted to tell Zayn that he wasn’t this great person. If Liam had had any restraint, he wouldn’t have allowed things to reach that tipping point when what stood between what was right and was wrong had been an elevator button.  He was far, far from being a poster-boy for morality.

Liam licked his lips. “Okay, let’s rubber up, Zayn. I really need to come soon or I’ll burst a blood clot in my cock.”

Zayn laughed and reached across the bed, grabbed the condom, and tore the packaging open. He crawled over to where Liam sat, jacked Liam off a few times with his free hand, and rolled the condom on. Next he picked the lube and spread a generous portion over Liam; he bracketed Liam’s thighs with his own and was lowering himself, slowly, so slowly onto Liam.

Liam stopped breathing, and lost track of everything in the room. Nothing else existed but the pulsing heat of Zayn on his cock, the scent of Zayn’s body, gun metal and salty perspiration with an echo of tobacco. Zayn, whose sweat slick thighs brushed against his. The thud, thud, thud of his heart was a tightly coiled drum that didn’t seem to fit his chest right. He opened his eyes, looking up at Zayn whose head was tilted back, his mouth parted as he rose up and down on Liam's cock. “Kiss me,” Liam begged, his entire body now aching for the taste of Zayn’s tongue. Liam wanted those perfect lips on his own.

Zayn leaned forward, pausing the movement of his hips before placing a kiss on Liam’s lips. “I’ve always wanted to kiss you,” Zayn panted against Liam’s lips as his hips picked up the pace.

“Now nothing’s stopping you,” Liam groaned as Zayn sank down again on his cock. Zayn kissed him harder, sucking Liam’s lower lip into his mouth.  “Fuuuuck,” Liam said when the kiss ended. He placed his hands over Zayn’s back, pressing Zayn closer to him until he could feel the wet tip of Zayn’s cock brush his stomach. Liam was going to come; he was so close. But he wanted this to feel just as good for Zayn.

Liam reached between their bodies and grasped at Zayn’s cock and began to jerk him off to the same rhythm as Zayn was rising and lowering on him. Liam’s orgasm hit and he stilled as he felt his body shudder, his hand stilled and Zayn rode him gently through it. Liam was still mostly out of it when Zayn covered his hand with his own and began to jerk his cock. Liam tightened his grip and together they stroked Zayn to climax. Once his orgasm subsided, Zayn crawled off Liam and collapsed on the bed beside him.

Zayn turned on his side to look at Liam. “We’re not stopping, are we?”

Liam watched the weak morning sunlight filter into the room and frame Zayn’s face, bringing out the specks of gold in his eyes.  “Do you want to stop?” Liam asked.

“I don’t think I can,” Zayn said.

Liam felt the sweat cooling on his skin and breathed in the scent of sex that was thick in the air. He’d known it that night, their one night of debauchery, the minute he’d touched Zayn, sexually and full of intent, he’d felt it. The animal magnetism magnified like a shot of X straight through to his heart. It wouldn’t be enough -- fuck, a hundred nights would never be enough.

 

 


	5. Two and a half years Ago

Y _ou’ve alwa ys been above all of this, Liam. Even when you were with Danielle -you were always just with her_, the words played through Liam’s mind.

Eighteen months ago, it all came to a head. Their _Up All Night t_ our had begun and the thrill of new cities, all teaming with adoring fans was a ceaseless rush. Liam loved performing all their new songs that were not covers. He loved the take-offs and landings, the thrill of staying in swanky, posh hotels. And most of all, he’d loved having a reason to be around Zayn. It was pathetic and sad to say the least.

When Liam realised at the X-factor finale that they had lost, his first conscious thought had been about how he no longer had an excuse to be in a band with Zayn. Their friendship, although new, but definitely most intense he’d had in his life, would come to an end. But in a few short months, the band had their first single shooting up the Billboard charts straight to number one. It should have been enough. All of his dreams were coming true.  But the further up they rose, the more it seemed Zayn was slipping further and further from Liam's grasp. God, he _was_ pathetic. He had a girlfriend whom he loved, but he was obsessed with his best friend, and not only that but Zayn was a hundred percent straight and was definitely living it up and enjoying the rockstar lifestyle.

Every night, the lads went out clubbing, picking up girls, drinking. Sometimes Liam went with them but he wasn’t much of a drinker, so he ended up as the sober one most of the time.

He spent most night watching the rest of the guys falling over themselves as girls, really fit girls, whispered into their ears while their hands did non-PG things underneath the table.

He and Louis were the only non-single guys in the band but Louis liked to flirt while Liam was rubbish at talking to girls. Liam knew the real reason why he went out with the boys, it was the same reason he kept changing his stupid hair, the same reason he started going to the gym more often, and the same reason he’d asked his girlfriend to teach him dance moves. He wanted to seem cool to Zayn. It was all so lame − even Niall, with his bleached hair and braces, had more game than him. But the main reason Liam went club hopping with the guys was so he could watch Zayn.

Liam liked to watch Zayn running his hands over girls; he liked to watch Zayn’s face when a girl was pressed against him on the dance floor. Liam memorised the way Zayn looked returning from another quick fuck in the bathroom, his hair damp at his hairline, his smile languid. These brief glimpses of Zayn being sexual made the deafening club music, the flashing strobe lights worth it.

One night, after a show, Zayn, Louis and Niall had gone to check out the city night attractions. They had asked Liam along, but he had declined, lied and told them that he wanted to video call with his family.

Harry had Harry things to do. No one ever actually knew what they were. Harry was the sort of person who’d be the loudest and then the next moment he’d be quiet and reserved. Liam never minded hanging out with him. Harry was, well, Harry, easy to talk to and a funny bloke. Plus he never pried or teased Liam about his teetotal ways.

Liam found himself in Harry’s room watching a local soap. The acting was theatrical; every now and again Harry would offer his take on what was happening.

“That’s the wife, she’s having an affair with the husband’s friend,” Harry said, as a buxom brunette spoke to a suited man on screen. “She’s telling him that they should stay just friends.”

“I think he’s the husband’s father,” Liam said. “They have the same last name.” The woman was now breathing heavily and turning away from the man. She reached for a bottle of Scotch and poured a glass.

“Oh, bad decision juice, very bad,” Harry said. “Now how is she going to fight the urge to succumb to her desires?”

“Succumb to her desires?” Liam glanced at Harry, raising a brow. “Where do you come up with this shit?”

“My mother has lived on a steady diet of Mills and Boon for most of her life. The women in those books say that sort of thing all the time.”

“Well, I guess I’ll try not to succumb to my desire to laugh when you say rubbish like that.”

“Is that the only thing you’re trying not to succumb to?”  Harry said, his voice overly casual.

Liam bristled. “What are you on about?”

Harry smiled the smile of a man who knew he’d hit a nerve. “Zayn.”

A beat went by. “What about Zayn?” Liam said.

“You like him.”

“Of course I like him, he’s my friend.”

“But it’s more than that, innit?” Harry reached for the remote and switched the television off. “You fancy him.”

“That’s not true.” Liam knew he was blushing.

“You’re always staring at him.”

“I don’t.”

“The lady doth protest too much, I think,” Harry said. “You don’t have to keep things like that from me. I’m not going to tell other people.”

“Not even Louis?”

“Especially not Louis.”

They were quiet for a while. The faint city sounds streamed through the open balcony door. “I thought, I hid it well,” Liam said quietly, pulling at the drawstrings of his Adidas hoodie.

“You do, but I saw glimpses of it.” Harry said, his voice low as he fiddled with the remote in his hands. “I wasn’t too sure at first what it was. But when we went out I’d see how you’d look at him when he was with those girls. You wanted to be one of them, to have him grind up against you on a dance floor and run his hands all over you.” Getting hard wasn’t the appropriate response. But there was something about the way Harry was speaking to him about Zayn like this, something in his slow measured voice, which made Liam’s cock stiffen in his trousers.

“It’s stupid because Zayn likes girls,” Liam said. “And I have a girlfriend-”

“He and I shared a girl once,” Harry said. “He fucked her while she blew me. It was all very sordid.”

Liam sat frozen in his chair, blood rushing down straight to his cock, his eyes wide. “You… had a threesome with… Zayn?”

“Yeah, back in Stockholm.” Harry’s eyes brushed over the tented fabric of Liam’s trousers.

“Did you -?” Liam licked his lips and began again. “Did you touch him?”

“We were in a very constrained space so our bodies did brush a few times. The girl was really into it, saying that it would be really hot if we kissed.”

Liam swallowed. “Did you kiss?”

“No.” Harry got up and walked over to Liam. He sank to his knees in front of him. “I’m not him and I won’t try to be.”

Liam recoiled away from Harry. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Harry grabbed Liam’s hand and placed it over the crotch of his jeans and smiled. “You’re hard, I’m hard.” He squeezed Liam’s hand. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t do something about that.” Harry said it in his university professor way of speaking making the proposition sound so reasonable. Danielle wasn’t here. Zayn was out fucking total strangers.  Harry was here, his cock hard and pulsing through the fabric of his jeans, his lips pink and inviting. Why shouldn’t he have some fun once in a while?

“I’ve never actually done it with a guy,” Liam said, his cheeks warm.

“Aww, a virgin,” Harry said, smiling. “I’ll be gentle.” He leaned in and kissed Liam.

That night Harry fucked him. It hurt in the beginning, but once he forced himself to relax it began to feel good. The incessant pounding in Liam’s head was dulled by the drive of Harry’s cock in him. When he came, the only word that fell from his mouth in the white storm of his orgasm was Zayn.

Over the months that followed, Liam and Harry had sex a few times before Harry got a serious girlfriend. Liam broke up with Danielle and started joining the boys on their night outs, his pop now replaced with cocktails. He no longer stood on the side-lines watching. He chatted up girls and took them to bathroom stalls for blowjobs and quickies.

And through it, Liam still found himself watching Zayn, still lusting after the boy he could never have.

 


	6. Twenty-one days before the Wedding

They lay in bed for a while, their arms tangled, chest to chest, and limb to limb. The small cottage was redolent with the scent of sex. Liam would have loved to stay like that for the remainder of the day but his growling stomach had other plans. He opened his eyes.

“I think I need food.”

Zayn smiled, his eyes still closed. “You need food?” Liam’s stomach gave a more demanding growl as if answering Zayn’s question.

“I definitely need food.” Liam moved his arm down to embrace Zayn more closely.

“But I don’t want to move.”

“You're gonna have to, babe.” Zayn pressed a kiss to Liam’s forehead. “This isn’t exactly the Four Seasons, food doesn’t magically appear when you press a bell.”

Liam groaned and leaned into the kiss, enjoying the pinprick feel of Zayn’s stubble sharp against his skin and the warmth of Zayn’s lips against his forehead. “I don’t want to go out and be reminded that there are other people in the world. There’s also that thing where we don’t need them finding out that we’re sharing a B&B. Alone.”

“This place is cool in the sense that the owners hate technology,” Zayn said. “They don’t own cellphones and electronic devices aren’t allowed in the dining halls. I can’t guarantee that we won’t be spotted but at least there won’t be any photographic proof.”

“We can’t order in?” Liam said.

“Nope.” Zayn glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s almost eleven, we better get moving if we want to have breakfast.”

“All right.” Liam leaned in to kiss Zayn, intending it to be a brief peck on the lips. But Zayn’s lips were warm and he could still taste himself in Zayn’s mouth and a brief kiss turned passionate. He raised a hand to grip Zayn’s face, pulling him closer so he could get his tongue deeper into Zayn’s mouth. Absently, Liam rubbed at the hair that at the base of Zayn’s neck while thoroughly exploring Zayn’s mouth with his tongue. He would have gone on but Zayn was laughing and pulling away.

“We have to get going or we’ll miss breakfast, which I have already paid for, by the way,” Zayn said, a smile on his lips.

“All right, all right,” Liam said, surrendering. “I fully intend to finish what we started here when we get back.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

They got out of bed.  Zayn went to the adjoining bathroom and soon water was running and the generic scent of free shower gel streamed into the room. Liam surveyed the state the room was in. It was quite apparent from the state of the bed that several bouts of vigorous sex had transpired on it.

The sheets were rumpled, there were stains dampening the centre of the bed, the condom wrapper was clinging precariously to the edge of the shoved aside duvet. Liam tied the used condom and disposed of it in the bin beside the bed. He grabbed the wrapper and threw it away. He tore some pages out of a coffee table magazine, retrieved the condom and foil wrapper, wrapped them inside the pages and threw them back in the bin. He flipped the sheets around so the come and lube stains were not as visible on them and ironed them out with his palms so they weren’t as rumpled. By the time he had covered the bed with the duvet Zayn was walking out of the bedroom, a towel tied loosely around his waist while he dried his hair.

Zayn gave him a puzzled expression. “The room will get cleaned.”

“I know,” Liam answered as he threw the fluffed out pillows onto the bed. “I don’t want to give some nice old lady unwanted drama when she has to change our jizz covered sheets. She would probably die of shock when she realised it’s from two guys.” Liam put on a shrill elderly voice. “A couple of benders frolicking at the Higher West B&B, such a thing would never have happened in the good old days.” He turned towards Zayn, expecting to have elicited a smile from him but Zayn was drying his hair, a slight frown on his face. “What?” Liam asked.

“Nothing,” Zayn said. “Go shower and we’ll go.”

Liam grabbed his toiletry bag and went to the bathroom. He used the loo, then jumped into the shower. Afterwards, his skin tingly warm from the hot water, he contemplated shaving then decided against it. He went back to the main room of the cottage where Zayn was sprawled in the sofa watching some random movie. Liam got dressed and grabbed his cold weather coat. He was putting on his watch when he heard Zayn speak.

“Do you think you are?” Zayn said, his eyes on the television screen. “Bent that is?”

“I’ve never really thought about it.” Liam clipped his watch on and came around the sofa to sit next to Zayn. “Do you think _you_ are?”

“I like girls, and I’ve always enjoyed sex with them,” Zayn said, contemplatively. “But there’s always been this curiosity about men. I’ve never really acted on it, I mean, it’s taboo and all for me. I thought maybe that was the attraction. But with you, I know it’s more than just getting fucked by a guy.”

Liam stared at the television screen, Robert Downey Jr.(with out of control 80s hair) was driving some fancy car, looking devilishly handsome. Liam didn't recognise the film. He turned to face Zayn, trying his best to think of something to say. “I’ve always known that guys can turn me on as easily as girls could, maybe more,” Liam said, choosing his words carefully. He didn’t want to bring up Harry. His first fling with a guy (if one could even call it that) had been bad judgement and sexual frustration on his part. It should have been Zayn who was the first to touch him, to fuck him, to come inside of him. Not Harry. He knew Zayn and Harry were friends and the fact it was Harry who he'd been with was some sort of betrayal. That and the fact he had been walking around as a poster child of long distance relationships when he was, in fact, fooling around with Harry at every opportunity that presented itself. It was over now. There was no need for Zayn to ever find out. “Our own little secret,” Harry had said with a lascivious wink. He’d promised him that he would never tell Zayn. And neither would Liam, not willingly. He exhaled slowly. “I was a virgin when we were on X-factor and Danielle was my first in most things. I’ve questioned my sexual orientation but I figured I was mostly straight, that I didn’t have to be with men, um, sexually. But as you can see...” Liam gestured between them. “That wasn’t the case.”

“You were a virgin when you were on X-Factor?”

“I think we all were. Well, maybe not Louis. And you.”

“What makes you think I wasn’t a virgin?”

Liam shrugged. “You had that air of having seen and done things--the teenage equivalent of sexual sophistication.”

“It was all bullshit.” Zayn laughed dryly. “I’d only kissed one girl before the show. I was shy around them and clueless.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. So much for the Bradford bad-boy image, huh?”

“Who did you lose your virginity to?” Liam asked.

“Geneva,” Zayn said. He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “Fast forward a few years and now I can barely remember the names of some of the girls I’ve been with. It kind of makes me feel sad.”

 “Why?” Liam could hear regret in Zayn’s voice.

“I never thought I could become this guy,” Zayn said. “Growing up I knew guys who really prized being players and going through girl after girl. But I had a romanticised idea of relationships and I thought if I was going to be with someone, then I would be with her only. Not with other people. I really had that belief that sex was sacred and to be had with someone that meant something to you. That kid who auditioned for X-Factor would probably be disgusted with all the things I’ve done. I’ve debased myself. I’ve debased him.”

Liam put an arm around Zayn’ shoulders and pulled him close. “That’s a bit harsh. We were kids. We’ve fucked up. We’ve fucked around. How could we not? It was so readily offered to us at every turn.”

“But that’s just an excuse, isn’t it? We could have been better than that. You were better than that before your downward spiral after Danielle dumped you. But you had a reason for the partying. The rest of us, we couldn’t even know how to begin to be faithful.”

Liam felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. This was his opportunity to confess about his _fling_ with Harry. This was his chance to let it be known that the ceaseless touring and travelling had gotten to him as well. That he had not been faithful to Dani, that she had dumped him because she could see the guilt in his eyes and he’d been happy to be free of the ‘in a relationship’ albatross that had been around his neck --because if Zayn was going to be having three-ways with groupies and a guy in the band then he deserved to be the aforementioned guy. If that was the closest Liam would ever get to Zayn, he would have taken it. Being the sensible one was a burden in the sense that people weren’t exactly jumping at the opportunity to invite him to join in their illicit sexual debauchery.  But being the sensible one with a girlfriend who was trying to be committed also especially meant that his Zayn three-way ambitions were never going to be fulfilled any time soon. “Danielle and I weren’t perfect,” Liam said. “I was away for most of the time and the distance definitely made itself known.”

“Right now I wish you were here with me,” Zayn said. “You wrote that line. Ryan mentioned to me that you’d tell Danielle that when we were touring. I know that no relationship is perfect but I guess it’s the dedication and commitment to her that I found so endearing about you.”

Liam didn’t know how to respond to that. It had been easy to tell Ryan that the line was about Danielle and their doomed long-distance relationship. _You write from the_ _heart_ , Ryan had said when he had first expressed interest to contribute lyrics to the new record. _If it’s not from the heart it won’t resonate with the listener._ So he’d typed out a few lines whenever he was free, random stuff like “I saw how the light made your eyes glow like embers.” Some of it had been awful. “I want to trace your lips with mine, I want to kiss you from your neck to your spine.”  He’d kept at it and the one memory that he kept coming back to time and time again was that first tour, how he wanted to be beside Zayn, make him laugh, watch his face lit by the stage lights. How he wanted Zayn in bed next to him after a show. How he wanted to share the new cities and experiences with Zayn, how he wanted to reach for Zayn’s hand but couldn’t. The sheer, devastating longing of wanting to be more than Zayn’s friend, the attraction was strange and new to him and he didn’t know how to turn it off. He spilled all of it out in the music.

It had just been easier to say it was for Danielle.

“ _You know I can’t fight the feeling and every night I feel it_ ,” Liam sang, low and throaty to Zayn. They sat quietly for a moment before Liam whispered, “We’ve definitely missed breakfast.”

“We’ll make it an early lunch.” Zayn got to his feet before reaching for Liam’s hand.

“Let’s go.”

Liam clasped Zayn’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. Together they walked out of the cottage into the wintery mid-morning sun.

 


	7. Six months before the Wedding

Liam broke up with Danielle over the phone. Technically, she had broken up with him but he had engineered the demise of their relationship. Liam didn’t talk to her anymore, he didn’t share pieces of himself, and she sensed it.  The distance between them, much more than miles or continents was irreparable. He was a wastrel piece of shit. He didn’t want to be the one to say the words. Thus Danielle shouldered the burden of breaking them up. Like strangers, they both walked away and in the end neither of them tried to save the relationship.

Liam didn’t want to think about it, it was much easier to sneak off into Harry’s room and lose himself to hard fucking. Sex with Harry was devastatingly good. Not that Liam had much to compare it to since Harry was the second person he had ever slept with. Sex with Danielle had been all about slow and gentle caresses, but Harry was all hard kisses, and rough thrusting. The sweet, smiling Harry disappeared in the bedroom and he revelled in whispering filth into Liam’s ear when he was fucking Liam. They had barebacked the first time and this continued throughout their relationship. Harry would shove him face down onto the bed. Harry rimmed him until Liam was close to tears, until he was nothing but a needy mess, begging Harry to fuck him.

 “Do you want me to come in your tight arse?” Harry asked. This was what he needed, Liam told himself. Harry dulled down everything else. Liam had also topped Harry, but he found he enjoyed bottoming more. Liam liked relinquishing all control of his orgasms and he liked giving himself over to someone else. Then Harry met a girl and suddenly he wanted to be a good boyfriend and that had been the end of that. And Danielle was breaking up with him and he was in Miami practically crawling out of his skin with no outlet.

 Liam was contemplating propositioning Harry when Niall came to the side of his bunker and peered down at him. “Zayn and I are thinking of hitting the clubs,” Niall said. “Do you want to come with?”

 Liam put his iPhone aside and looked up at Niall. “I don’t feel like it.”

 “Uh, we know about you and Danielle breaking up,” Niall said. “One of her friends tweeted about it.” He patted Liam’s knee. “Love hurts, mate. How about you rant to us and we'll agree about everything you say about her? Hey, I’ll even get you started. _That Danielle is such a slapper_. How's that?”

 

“Shut up, that’s my ex you’re talking about.” Liam gave Niall a weak laugh. “Okay, I’ll come with.” He got off the bunk bed. “I think I need to change before I go out,” he said, running a hand through his flattened hair.

“We’ll wait for you upfront.” Liam went through a watered down version of his grooming ritual: some product on his hair, a quick swipe of roll-on, then he slapped on cologne. As he put on his watch, he realised that he wasn’t in a party mood.  Yes, he had just been dumped. But that wasn’t the cause why he felt foul. Zayn being all loved up with Perrie was the reason. He had a front row seat watching Zayn texting and calling her. He knew Zayn had cut down on the partying and everyone was saying that it was serious. They were kids, barely twenty, how serious could it be?

 When he finished getting ready, he went to the front of the bus where he found Niall and Zayn. Niall was talking to Paul as Zayn absently fiddled on his phone. “Aren’t Harry and Louis coming with?” Liam asked.

“Harry’s on a date with his new girlfriend. Louis is playing some footie,” Niall said.

“It’s just the three of us tonight painting the town red.”

“Sounds all right.”

“The club is called _Throb_ ,” one of their locally hired security detail informed them.

Niall nudged Zayn and smiled slyly, “I wonder why,” he said.  Liam returned their smiles, and chose to keep his thoughts to himself.

The queue of people waiting to get into club _Throb_ on a Saturday night was longer than Caprice’s legs. Liam gave a low whistle, as their SVU drove to the front entrance, passing the long line of people. Their security gathered around them as they were ushered into the club.

When you walk in to _T_ _h_ _r_ _ob_ , the first thing you notice is the reflective surfaces and then deafening dance music blurring from every corner. “They should have called this place trigger,” Zayn shouted over the music.

Liam turned to him, frowning. “What?” Zayn pointed at the oscillating lights above them, which were flashing frosty blue and red. Zayn did an imitation of the pulsing lights with his hand.

“Trigger. Get it?”

Liam shrugged; they were led to the VIP section. A German DJ that Liam recognised was entertaining three reality TV stars from MTV’s _My Sweet Big Birthday Bash_ or some shit of that sort -- the kind of nonsense that Liam always found himself watching whenever he was trapped in his hotel room in a foreign country.

The three girls turned to them and giggled as they walked past.

Niall ordered the drinks, vodka and coke for Zayn, a martini for Niall, and Liam requested rum and coke for himself--much to their wide-eyed horror. “You don’t drink,” Niall said as their VIP table attendant walked away.

“Not anymore,” Liam said. “I’ve got one life and I’m going to live it to the fullest.”

“You also have one fully functioning kidney, mate,” Zayn added.

Niall raised his hands, palms outward. “Okay, as long as you are aware of the risks, I’ll drink to that.”  He gave Zayn a pointed look. “Do you agree with me, Zayn?”

“Liam, don't expect me to nurse you through your first hang-over,” Zayn said.

The drinks arrived and they toasted. “To Life!” Niall shouted; the lad got really Irish when he was buzzed.

“To Uncle Simon!” Zayn said.

Liam raised his glass. “To love and honesty,” he said as he stared at Zayn. 

Over the course of the next half hour, they ordered more drinks that Liam couldn’t keep track of. They had an assortment of glasses littering their table in different shapes and sizes. Liam didn’t even know what he was drinking but he didn’t care as long as it burned pleasantly when he poured it down his throat. He was leaning over the table, grabbing Zayn’s wrist to look at his new Rolex, Zayn’s hand captured between his own when he heard Niall cough.

“Liam, I’m calling this your last drink.” Niall nudged Liam under the table.

Liam let go of Zayn’s hand and raised his drink. “Let’s drink to that. To opportunities!”  Niall rolled his eyes and raised his glass, Liam ignored him and he clinked his glass against Zayn’s. “I’m going to dance…” Liam mumbled as he rose unsteadily to his feet. He was good and drunk and didn’t care. 

The music was thudding pleasantly. Liam danced alone for a while before he went back to the bar to order another drink. From there he spotted one of the socialites wiggle her way to the table where Niall and Zayn were seated. She leaned forward to whisper something in Zayn’s ear. Some words were exchanged between them and soon they were getting up and disappearing into the crowd of dancing bodies. Liam swallowed down his drink in one swig. The socialite’s friend was seated alone at her table; he walked over to her. “I see your friend has abandoned you,” he said, smiling his most charming smile. He sat down opposite her.

She smiled back. “I see your friend has abandoned you too.”

“I have a back-up friend for times like these.” He nodded in Niall’s direction. “What about you?”

“I guess I’ll have to find myself one of those.”

“I volunteer.” He reached a hand across a sticky table surface. “I’m Liam.”

“I’m Jess.” She said, shaking his hand slowly. She knew who he was. He could tell by the appraisal in her eyes and the speculative swipe of her tongue on her red lips. This wouldn’t be hard. Or rather, it shouldn’t be hard. She was game; all he needed was to find the right words.

“So…” he started.

“Do I come here often?” she said.

“Yeah, do you?”

“Yes, I’d ask you the same but I know the answer is no.” Liam laughed nervously.

Her smile broadened to reveal unnaturally white teeth. “You’re so cute and shy. Let’s keep things simple. Do you want me to suck you off in the bathroom?”

 Liam's eyes must have been comically wide because she laughed and got up, pulling the gold skintight dress she was wearing down her thighs a little before reaching out a hand to him. He grabbed it and hand-in-hand they walked to the bathrooms. One of the stalls was occupied so they got into the one adjacent to it. He heard it then, a low dirty moan, and his cock began to stiffen. Zayn was in the stall next to them. He placed a palm on the expensive marble tiled walls as Jess unzipped his jeans and got on her knees. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to hear more of what was happening in the next-door stall. But all he could hear was Jess sucking on his cock and the red-hot pounding of blood in his ears and the frantic panting falling from his lips.

 That night, Jess was his first pick-up. She wouldn’t be his last.

 


	8. Twenty-one days before the Wedding

They have breakfast in the dining hall of the main house. It’s small, quaint, and exactly as Zayn described.

“All the other guests are ancient, stiff-upper-lip types; they won’t pay any attention to us,” Zayn had said. Liam was inclined to agree and he doubted they had ever heard of One Direction.

They have a full English breakfast. Since this is technically their lunch, they polish it off with scones with jam and a delicious pot of imported Rooibos tea. Afterwards, they walk around the estate to the large duck pond which was enclosed by the garden. By then, the air was cold, and dark grey clouds hid the sun.

They stopped at the edge of the pond and skipped stones over the inky black surface. There weren’t any ducks. Everything seemed so still and quiet, for a moment Liam could have convinced himself that they were the only people for miles around. Liam threw his last pebble watching it do an impressive skip, before he put this arms around Zayn.

“It’s nice out here,” Zayn said.

“Yeah,” Liam leaned into Zayn and lowered his head to Zayn’s shoulder. “It’s very quiet.”

“I’d like to stay like this but I’m freezing.” Zayn’s voice was apologetic and Liam laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the nape of Zayn’s neck. “Let’s go back to our warm cottage.”

 _O_ _u_ _r_. Liam smiled at Zayn’s choice of words.

They held hands again as they walked back, Liam giddy as he pressed his palm against Zayn’s palm, interlacing their fingers. This felt more intimate than the sex had been. Liam figured there was a certain biological primitive urge to want to have sex with someone, but there wasn’t a chemical drive to want to hold someone’s hand — well, none that he knew of. By the time they reached their cottage, Liam’s cheeks were flushed, partially from the cold, a bit from the warm feeling in his gut. Zayn unlocked the room and Liam followed him inside.

“What do you want to do-?” Liam’s question was cut short by the shrill ring of Zayn’s cellphone.

Zayn looked at the screen and grimaced. “Sorry,” he said as he answered the phone. “Hey, Perrie…”

Liam crossed his arms and walked over to the window. He realised he didn’t want to loiter while Zayn was talking to his fiancée. But he didn’t want to act like a jealous lover either. He decided to put on the kettle. _God bless England’s favourite time filler – tea_.

Liam went to the tea table at the corner of the room, putting two teabags into the delicate white teacups and glanced up. Zayn was still on the phone, although his part of the conversation seemed to consist of ‘Uh uhs’ and ‘Sure’ and ‘Yeahs’. It had to be more wedding talk. The kettle gave a loud shrill sound. Liam poured the water into the two cups and left the tea to steep. There were single-serving long life milk portions in the basket by the kettle; Liam took two servings placing them on the side of the saucer of each cup also with single-serving sachets of sugar, brown for himself, white for Zayn. Liam was pouring out milk into his cup as Zayn said his goodbyes to Perrie. Liam picked up the saucer and handed it to Zayn. He took it distractedly. Liam sipped his tea. Zayn stared at his cup for a moment, and then he placed it with the saucer on the tray.

“Do you want more suga—” Liam’s words were cut off as Zayn took his teacup from him, placing it down so quickly that the liquid spilled.  Zayn started kissing Liam, his tongue thrusting into Liam’s mouth while he moved his hips against Liam’s crotch, slow and sensuous. Zayn pulled back, breathless. His eyes were dark and unreadable, his lips wet with saliva. Suddenly, words from a poem that Liam had studied in Year Ten came to him. ‘ _He has earned his thirst and the right to quench it--_ words Liam hadn’t understood back then but knew so fully now. He stood there, hypnotised, as Zayn ran his forefinger across Liam’s bottom lip.

“I want to fuck you,” Zayn whispered, watching Liam’s lip tremble. “Is that all right? Do you want that?”

Liam found himself nodding, captivated by Zayn’s intensity.

“Take off all of your clothes, get on the bed on your back and spread your legs wide apart,” Zayn said.

Liam  kicked  off  his  black trainers and his socks, and  took  off  his  jacket  with  slightly trembling fingers. He pulled his shirt off, unzipped his jeans and pulled them down along with his underwear swiftly.  He walked to the bed and got on his back, his knees parted, waiting for Zayn while his heart thudded violently in his chest. Zayn stood watching him eyes running down over Liam’s body. Liam shivered in response and felt his cock begin to harden.  Still fully clothed, Zayn went over to the bed, settling between Liam’s thighs. The rough fabric of Zayn’s trousers dragged against Liam’s skin. The material felt good, Liam reached down between his legs to grip his cock.

“You don’t get to touch yourself,” Zayn said, soft but stern. “Not yet.” Liam groaned and raised his hands over his head. He widened his thighs and waited to see what Zayn would do. The specificity of Zayn’s instructions meant he’d been thinking about doing this to him for some time.

“Your body amazes me,” Zayn placed a palm over Liam’s taut stomach. “I once watched you working out. You were doing sits-ups on the decline bench shirtless and I got so fucking hard watching you move your body. All that grace, all those muscles and I knew back then that I wanted to have you like this.” He ran his hand down and slowly wrapped it around Liam’s cock.  He jerked Liam off slowly, pausing to run a thumb over the head of Liam’s cock, before sliding his hand back down the hard length. “I couldn’t tell you then so I’ll tell you now, the way you move when you work out is very sexy.”

“Maybe I was doing it deliberately, moving my body that way because I knew you were watching me,” Liam said, his voice breathless due to the ministrations of Zayn’s very clever fingers on his cock.

Zayn stopped moving his hand. “You knew I was watching?”

Liam opened his eyes to look up at him. “I was trying to seduce you.” Liam licked his lips and thrust his cock into Zayn’s still fingers trying to goad him to move.

“What else did you do when you were trying to seduce me?” Zayn resumed the movement, sliding them slowly up, fingertips massaging the head of Liam’s cock, making Liam gasp.

Liam closed his eyes, remembering. “I sat next to you a lot. I took my shirt off every opportunity I could.” Zayn removed his hand and Liam heard him spit and when it returned to his cock it was now slick and the sensation was so good he forgot what he was saying as he thrust his hips up, fucking Zayn’s hand.

“You were saying?” Zayn slapped Liam’s hip lightly.

“Uh, I took my shirt off a lot.”

“You’ve already said that.”

“I started wearing more sleeveless shirts to show off my muscles.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.” Zayn squeezed him, inciting a moan from Liam. “That just wasn’t fair.”

“ _Y_ _our face_ isn’t fair.” Liam panted out. He was close now. Zayn sensed it and he pulled his hand away. Liam opened his eyes. Zayn had a grip on his own trouser-clad hard-on. Zayn’s eyes were hooded and dark, watching him. Liam raised his hips and lowered them, his hard-on bobbing on his stomach lewdly.

They watched each other.

Zayn reached to the front of his trousers and unzipped them, the zipper hissed in the quiet room. He pushed his trousers and pants down to his thighs and gripped his hard, flushed cock firmly in his fist and started to slowly stroke himself, all while watching Liam. “Does this turn you on?” Zayn asked, his voice low and husky. “Watching me jerk myself off?”

“Yes, it does.” Liam gripped the bed sheets in an attempt to keep his hands from returning to his aching cock and mimicking Zayn’s slow movements. “ _A lot_.” Zayn eyes dropped to look at Liam’s closed fist on the sheets which Liam reckoned were probably white knuckled from the restraint it took not to enthusiastically jerk himself off.

“Keep your hands where I can see them.” Zayn jerked himself faster, moaning when Liam parted his thighs further.

“Yes, sir,” Liam said, partly joking but he saw the way Zayn’s lips parted as he gripped his cock tighter, hearing Liam say _sir_ did it for him. Zayn liked bossing him around. Liam could tell by the way he relished how Liam responded to his quietly spoken commands. He was so turned on by Liam’s compliance the veins on his arms bulged as he strained not to jerk off too fast and come over Liam’s stomach.

“Spread your thighs more,” Zayn said. Liam pushed his thighs outward as much as he could to the point they began to tremble from the exertion. When he spoke again it was more to distract himself from the slick sounds of Zayn jerking off and the ceaseless throb of his cock.

“That night we slept together, you told me something.” Liam’s eyes flickered to Zayn’s crotch. “You said I could have anything I wanted. Of course the first thing that jumped into my mind was that you were saying that I could fuck you—which was great because I really, really wanted to fuck you.” He paused to arch his back up off the bed, gratified when Zayn’s eyes followed the languid movement with speculative interest. “I felt that most of the stuff we did that night was for me. So tonight, Zayn, I want to return the favour. You can have anything you want from me. No matter how kinky or out there it is.” Liam swallowed and licked his lips. “I've felt like you’re holding back when we were together.  I’m not Perrie.  I’m solid. Don’t restrain yourself, I can take whatever you have to offer.”

Zayn paused and silence stretched out in the room. His eyes were dark with unbridled lust and he stared down at Liam. “Anything I want?” he asked.

“No matter how kinky, I won’t judge.”

“What if it’s like really kinky?”

“Try me?” Liam said.

Zayn closed his eyes, thinking. “No judgements?”

“You’re starting to worry me, mate,” Liam said, a smile playing on his lips. Zayn, usually so quietly confident, was being shy which was cute and sexy. “Your secret gay kink – does it involve bodily fluids that aren’t semen or sweat?” Zayn shook his head. “Because I’d still try it out for you if it did. I’ll say this again--Zayn look at me, I really mean it.” Zayn opened his eyes, his pupils large and dilated.  “I want to make you feel good. Whatever you need I will give it to you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Zayn sat back on his heels, his cock jutting out in front of him. “I’ve never done this but I’ve always wanted to try it out with you.” The stern tone from earlier returned to Zayn’s voice. “I want you to turn around and get on your hands and knees.” Liam lifted his knees, brushing his inner thighs on Zayn’s trousers in the process before he rolled onto his stomach. Liam raised himself so he was on his hands and knees with his arse in the air.  Knowing that Zayn was watching made him arch his back and part his knees, certain from the angle Zayn was sitting at he would see everything. He sighed, waiting for further instructions. There was a rustle of the bed sheets and Liam felt a palm press onto his buttocks, warm and firm. Then swiftly Zayn brought his hand up and brought it down hard causing Liam to gasp out loud. His arse smarted as heat spread like wildfire from the initial point of contact, ballooning up his spine, causing his skin to break out in cold goose bumps. He heard the rustle of bed sheets and light footsteps. A bag was opened and something was dropped on the bed. Liam wiggled wondering what Zayn was going to do next.

“Liam, stop moving.” Zayn got on the bed. Liam stilled instantly. “Good.” There was the sound of leather and metal clinking on metal. It was a familiar sound but Liam was too aroused to figure what it was. And Zayn was speaking again and Liam wanted to hear all he had to say. “Louis once told me something and it sort of stuck in my mind. He said that you have _a very_ smug face --one that begs to get slapped. This was way back before you guys became all buddy-buddy but it always stayed with me.” Zayn pressed something against Liam’s arse. It was a belt by the feel of it. “But it’s not your face I want to smack.”

There was a whistle as Zayn raised the belt and then brought it down hard on Liam’s butt. Liam winced and jerked away from the stinging pain where he had been hit with the belt. Zayn massaged Liam's arse with a palm that felt blissfully cool and shushed him at the same time. “Keep still.”

Zayn smacked his arse with the belt a few more times and Liam kept still, breathing harshly through his mouth. His cock was leaking and he wanted Zayn to push him face down into the mattress and fuck him hard. Behind his closed lids, all Liam could see was flickering red and streaks of white. Pain crystallised. And then Zayn wasn’t smacking his bottom anymore, he was spreading his arse cheeks apart and then there was a hot swipe of a tongue against his hole and Liam’s  arms  trembled  with  the effort  of  keeping his  body up.  It was Zayn, fucking Zayn licking into him and penetrating him with his tongue. Liam was moving again, thrusting his hips backwards, trying to get more pressure and sensation from Zayn. He was expecting to get smacked for his forwardness, but instead Zayn pressed in deeper, his hand reaching to give Liam's leaking, hard cock a few jerks. Just as Liam was getting into it, he felt Zayn retreat and he let out a whimper. This time Liam did get a smack, open palmed and quick on his arse.

“Sorry,” Liam said. And then just to rile Zayn up, he added, “Sir.”  The hand on his arse cheek gripped harder. “I can’t help myself. I really want you to fuck me.”

“Keep quiet.”

“No.”

Zayn let go of Liam’s arse suddenly, he pulled Liam’s head back, raising his chin and prying open his jaw filling Liam’s mouth with the taste of aged leather. “Bite down on that.”

Liam bit down on the belt with his teeth. Then Zayn was inserting a lubed finger into him and he bit harder to keep still. Zayn’s finger fucked into him torturously slowly, in and out, the wet filthy sound of it filling the quiet room. Then Zayn added another finger and Liam’s knees gave out and he was flat on the bed, breathing in the pillow that smelt like Zayn and taking the hot press of Zayn’s fingers inside him. This position was better; it allowed him to rub his cock onto the sheets and press back onto Zayn’s fingers inside him. When Liam started to rut against the mattress he earned himself a light smack from Zayn.

“You're not going to come from humping a mattress before I get my cock inside you,” Zayn said. Liam bit on the belt in order not to retort that he needed Zayn inside him soon or he was going to come anyway. He’d been hard for so long and coming was a biological imperative that he could not hold off any longer. Zayn pulled his fingers away, and then there was the sound of foil being ripped, and next Zayn was lining up his cock against him and then pushing into him, slowly. So fucking slowly. Liam spat out the belt and moaned out Zayn’s name. That caught Zayn’s attention because then he was picking up pace and fucking deeply into Liam. Liam moaned again, flinging his face down onto the pillow, letting it swallow up all the sluttish sounds that rose from his throat.

Zayn’s breath was warm against Liam’s nape. “You like this, huh?” He punctuated each word with a thrust.

“Yeah,” Liam groaned out.

Zayn pushed into him hard. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

Liam didn't hesitate. “Zayn, I’m yours.”

“Fuck,” Zayn said, thrusting harder and Liam bottomed out beneath him, coming onto the mattress, biting down on the pillow feeling Zayn’s hips falter and then there was a press of hot lips on the back of his neck and Zayn was groaning out his own release and collapsing on top of him. They stayed like that for a long moment, then Zayn was pulling out of him and getting off him. Liam stayed where he was, feeling boneless. Every muscle and bone in his body felt liquefied. Zayn disposed of the condom and settled next to him. Liam smiled lazily at him.

“Was that all right?” Zayn asked.

“I’m a fucking noodle at the moment,” Liam said using what remaining energy he had to turn onto his side so he was facing Zayn. “It was more than all right I’d say.”

“I know it was your first time…” There was concern in Zayn’s eyes which made Liam’s stomach do a guilty flop. “Was I too rough on you?”

Liam looked away. “It was a bit painful in the beginning but it became really good really quickly.”

“I was sore for days after the night we got together,” Zayn said. “But I liked it 'cause it was a reminder of what we did.”

“Let’s not forget my poor bottom which I’m sure is quite red from being smacked by you and I’ll definitely be wincing when I sit down from that.”

“Yeah, your arse is the most beautiful shade of red,” Zayn said, smiling slyly.

“I’m definitely getting my revenge, Mr Malik.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I’m keeping that a secret for now, but you’ll definitely find out during the course of this weekend.” Liam leaned in to whisper in Zayn’s ear. “You’re not the only one with secret kinks you know.”

 


	9. Five and a half months before the Wedding

Melbourne was hot. Liam would’ve  liked  to  blame  the  sunny weather,  the  free flowing booze available at every corner, or the long lazy hours between concerts and interviews -- which left him with plenty of time to get stupid--or maybe it was the new shiny ring Perrie now sported.

He was slipping. At every hotel, he made sure he got the room next to Zayn’s. This was something Liam used to his advantage; he’d breeze into Zayn’s room with a towel riding low on his hips with any silly excuse he’d thought of that day. _Can I borrow your cellphone charger? Are you ge tting satellite on your telly? How does your view of the Port Phillip Bay differ from the one in my room?_ Liam got a kick out of seeing Zayn’s eyes travel across his broadening chest and the flat panels of his abs. Liam knew he was getting into great shape with all the workouts he was doing in his downtime. The funny thing was, two thousand and ten-Liam−with his Bieber haircut and goofy smile would have been uncertain. Old Liam would‘ve disregarded the swipe of Zayn’s tongue on his lips, whenever Liam appeared shirtless (again) on his doorstep. Old Liam would’ve dismissed how Zayn grew fidgety whenever he stood too close, or when he placed his hands on Zayn’s lower back on stage whenever they sang a bridge together. Not this Liam.

If anything, navigating the underworld of casual sex had taught him how to recognise sexual attraction and exploit it. Zayn wanted him. There was no denying that. But Zayn was holding back and he wasn’t just holding out on Liam. Zayn had stopped the club hopping and nightly hook-ups. In fact, all of the boys had done the same. Maybe they had finally gotten used to fame; maybe they now knew how to deal with the isolation that came with the job. Liam didn’t know which it was, but all their down time was now spent indoors. For Niall it was training; for Louis it was writing lyrics; surfing was Liam’s hobby; and surprisingly enough, boxing was Zayn’s choice. Harry disappeared with ‘friends’ he had met in New York. Rich kids who wanted a taste of fame. Harry’s friends were of the harmless marijuana variety so Liam wasn’t too concerned. He was glad that Harry had them to keep him company since he had broken up with his girlfriend. They kept Harry occupied and far from Liam, who, being newly single, could easily have hooked up with him again—something which Liam didn’t want to happen, not when he was _this close_ to getting Zayn.

Liam was in the private gym of the hotel, doing a set of push-ups. As he stood up from his last set, he became of aware of Zayn’s presence. Zayn was dressed in gym gear: white Nike gym trousers, a loose vest and white trainers. Liam glanced at his watch. “You’re up early, mate.” He took a swig from his water bottle.

“My internal clock is all messed up.” Zayn set the timer on the treadmill. “I can’t sleep in.” He got on the treadmill and began a slow jog. Liam went to the bench, adjusted it for his height and began a new set. From his vantage point, he knew Zayn had an unobstructed view of his body. But when he sneaked a glance at Zayn, Liam found him staring determinedly at the LCD monitor. Liam did a few more reps ignoring the dejected feelings welling up in his chest.

“I’m done,” Liam said after he’d completed his set. “See you around, mate.” When he realised that he wasn’t going to get a reply from Zayn, Liam walked out of the gym without a backwards glance.

That night, Liam woke up to loud banging at his hotel room door. He dragged himself out of bed, cursing whoever it was bothering him at such an ungodly hour. When he opened the door, Liam found a very dishevelled and drunk Harry Styles waiting for him on the other side.

“Hello,” Liam said, as he put an arm around Harry’s waist. “I think you’re on the wrong floor.”

“M’tired,” Harry mumbled as Liam manoeuvred him into the room and closed the door behind them. Liam guided him to the couch and sat him down. Harry swayed a little, as if he was going to topple over. Liam held him up, only letting go once he was sure that Harry wasn’t going to roll and fall off.

Liam went to the mini bar to get a bottle of water. Sitting next to Harry, Liam gave him the water. Harry shook his head. “Drink up, you’ll thank me tomorrow,” Liam said, uncapping the bottle and hovering it over Harry’s lips. Harry opened his mouth hesitantly and Liam tilted the bottle. Harry swallowed down a few gulps. “So what’s the matter?”

Harry turned to look at him, his green eyes bloodshot. “I did something horrible and I’m afraid I can’t ever make things right.”

“What did you do?” Harry’s hair had fallen over his forehead in a messy tangle; Liam reached out, brushing it back into a fringe.

“I came on to Louis.” Harry mumbled, not looking at Liam. “And I implied to Eleanor that he and I have been, that we’ve…”  He rubbed his eyes and leaned against Liam. “I thought it that it could be like it was with us, just some fun between lads. Nothing serious, but you should have seen Louis’ face.”

“What made you do it? Beside the alcohol and whatever else you’ve taken.”

“You,” Harry said.

“Me?” Liam said. “How so?”

“It’s daft but it seemed so clear when I was drunk,” Harry said.

Liam bit his tongue to stop himself from telling Harry that he was still drunk.

“I never thought _you_ of all the guys in the band would ever… _you know_. But then you were and you liked it. Louis has always liked me so I thought if I presented him with the same offer he’d want to _you know_.” Harry stopped speaking, blinking back tears.

“He doesn’t feel the same way about you?” Liam offered.

“Louis was so nice about it; he kept saying that he had a girlfriend, like it was supposed to mean something,” Harry said. “So I told him, okay, I get it but I still wanted to kiss him just to know how it felt. He kissed me. I texted Eleanor about it, she called him back, and you should have seen his face. He was so angry. I’d never seen him like that before.”

“You’re Harry. He’ll forgive you eventually. I mean, he loves you.”

“Just not in the-” Harry sniffled and glanced at Liam. “I guess that’s why I wanted you. You know what it’s like to want someone so much and to have to watch them be with someone else.”

“I guess I do,” Liam said thoughtfully.

“How do you deal with it?”

Liam gave a weak, hollow laugh. He really was the last person in the world that should be giving anyone advice about relationships. “Not too well. You were there for me… most of those times when it became too much.”

“I don’t think I can work with Louis anymore,” Harry announced. “Not when I feel the way I obviously do.”

“You can always blame it on the pricey liquor that they serve to us like water.”

“But it’ll always be there, out in the open. Not even Louis could spin it into a punch line. Hey Harold, remember the time in Oz when you got pissed and tried to lure me into bed and when I said no, you coerced me into kissing you and then went on to text my girlfriend about it? Wasn’t that funny? I’ve really fucked things up this time.”

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

 “Yes, it is.”

“You know what my mum used to say to me when things got really bad at school?” Liam said. “No matter how horrible your day is, it’s already tomorrow in Australia.”

Harry laughed. “Thanks, mate. As much as I love your mum’s words of wisdom, I think the only thing that could remedy this situation is more booze. I saw your little stash. Get me some of it.”

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

“I can still think… so no,” Harry said, he put on his best sad face. “Please, Payno. Do it for me.”

“Okay.” Liam got up.  He pulled out as many bottles of alcohol he could carry, setting them down on the glass table. He collected some glasses, pouring out drinks for both himself and Harry. Discreetly, he diluted the mixture with some water.

They spent the rest of the night drinking until they stumbled into Liam’s bed. Fumbling around in the dark, they snogged and drunkenly groped each other, until they both dozed off.

In the morning, they were awoken by loud, obnoxious voices. Liam cranked one eye open and found Niall standing at the foot of the bed. “Wakey, wakey lovebirds,” Niall said, grinning from ear to ear. “I was told to wake you up.” Liam glanced down at himself, and sighed with relief when he realised that all his clothes were still on. Harry was shirtless and he had a lovebite on his neck which Liam didn’t remember giving him.

“Go away,” Harry mumbled from his side of the bed.

“Hey, don’t kill the messenger,” Niall said. “Get up, we have to go!”

Liam got off the bed and immediately wished he hadn’t. He groaned. His head felt two sizes too big. He was cradling it between his knees when he heard Zayn’s voice.

“Somebody had too much fun last night, huh?” Liam raised his throbbing head and saw Zayn looking around the hotel room. There were opened bottles of booze all over the minibar and Harry’s shirt was on the floor; nothing really incriminating but Liam felt a pang of guilt still the same.

“I need a shower,” Liam said and got up slowly, made his way to the en suite bathroom, and locked the door behind him. Dribs and drabs of his night with Harry came back to him. In between snogging, he had caressed Harry’s hair, marvelling on how luxurious it felt between his fingertips.

Liam remembered Harry telling him, “You know, Zayn wants you too,”

“He’s engaged to Perrie.”

“That hasn’t stopped him from checking you o-” Harry burped, paused then continued. “He’s always staring at you and talking about how hot and toned you are.”

“You’re really drunk.”

“So are you. But don’t worry,” Harry leaned in, winking at Liam. “I’ll never tell him about us. It’s our own little secret.” Liam didn’t respond, instead he took another swig of vodka.

As Liam stood under the showerhead, replaying how Zayn had looked at him, remembering what Zayn had said about him during interviews. All this left Liam with dual emotions. Firstly,  he  felt  excitement  because  this  meant  he  hadn’t misunderstood any signals from Zayn. Secondly, he felt confused… if Zayn felt this way about him then why the hell had he proposed to Perrie?

 


	10. Twenty-one days before the Wedding

 

Zayn was still sleeping when Liam woke up. Zayn’s body was pressed tightly against him. The room was dark, the wind a raging force, hitting hard against the windows. A quick glance at his cellphone told Liam that it was a few minutes after six PM. He pulled Zayn closer to him. “What do you want for dinner?” he whispered.  Zayn made an adorable grumbling sound, snuggling closer in to his arms. Liam nudged at him again. “As much as I’d like to stay and snuggle with you, my stomach protests to the idea of going supperless for two nights in a row.”

Zayn opened one blurry eye. “I thought it was already morning.”

“It’s supper time.” Liam rolled over to switch the bedside lamp on. “I saw a few cafes in town when Preston dropped me off.”

“Check the drawers. Maybe they have some menus.” Zayn said as he sat up, rubbing at his eyes.

Liam opened the drawer to pull out a few tourist pamphlets. “They have a Marks & Spencer. Do you fancy having some Marks and Sparks?”

“Whatever you decide on is fine with me.”

“Marks and Sparks it is then.” Liam got out of the bed to pull on the clothes he had thrown on the floor earlier when he had been in haste to undress for Zayn. He was zipping on his hoodie when he looked over at Zayn who hadn’t moved from the bed. “The store closes at seven-thirty. We better get moving if we want to get some food.”

“I’m too tired to move.” Zayn said pulling the blanket over his head. Liam tugged at the duvet until it pulled free. Zayn grumbled under his breath and covered his head with his hands.

“Now I’m getting a glimpse of what Perrie has to look forward to,” Liam said as he went over and began to pull at Zayn’s arms who surprised him by dragging him down onto the bed.

“I thought you liked having me in your bed.” Zayn widened his eyes looking so coquettishly sweet Liam had an over whelming urge to kiss him.

“I do. It’s getting you out of bed that’s the problem.” Liam leaned close to kiss the corner of Zayn’s mouth. “Don’t think I’ll get side-tracked by you making eyes at me.”

“I’m not making eyes at you.”

“What do you call this?” Liam fluttered his eyelashes in an exaggerated manner.

“Blinking.”

“And this?” Liam peered up through his lashes and pouted.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “You look like a proper tool.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, that’s what I was going for.” Liam got up from the bed to grab his outdoor jacket from the coat rack by the door. Zayn followed suit, getting up to pick up his clothes. Liam admired the curve of Zayn’s ass as he bent down to pick his pants and internally lamented when Zayn pulled them on, covering up.

“Let’s go,” Zayn said, once he was dressed. He paused to grab his car keys before they walked outside. It was dark with fluffs of snow falling gently from the sky and carpeting the ground in white. The entire back lawn was heavily blanketed in snow which reflected the yellow lights illuminating everything -- tree, statues and garden gnomes -- in a golden, ethereal white. “It’s snowing.” Zayn said as he reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. He took a picture of the statues and the snow. “Come here.”

Liam stepped to his side. He was surprised when Zayn flipped the camera and faced his phone to them. His arm went around Zayn and he looked at the camera as a smile spread out his face. For the next picture Zayn leaned in to kiss him. “We shouldn’t be taking pictures like that,” Liam said when he pulled away from the kiss. “Perrie-”

“Isn’t here,” Zayn cut in. He pocketed the phone and then put his arms around Liam. “Let’s agree that we are not going to talk about her for the rest of the weekend.”

“I can do that, but first can I ask you something?” Zayn squared his jaw and nodded. Liam had seen that expression so often during interviews and in meetings with management. It was Zayn’s ‘I have a feeling I’m not going to like what you’re about to say but I’ll hear you out because I don’t really have a choice’ face.

“Would you have hooked up with me if you weren’t engaged to her?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I don’t believe that. Your engagement was the catalyst to all off this. I sort of feel like I’m your last indulgence before you sail off into the land of wedded bliss. Or maybe the executioner's chair based on the expression you have on your face whenever she’s mentioned. And I’m not sure if its cold feet or something more and if I’m enabling you-”

“You’re not my last meal.”

“But I feel like I am. Why am I here taking couple-ly selfies with you? I know we said we could stop but do you truly believe that three weeks from now when Perrie’s walking towards you in a white veil that none of this will come back to you?” Liam lowered his voice and moved closer to Zayn. “Or what about your wedding night, huh? Does Perrie even know what you need in bed to really get off?”

“Why can’t we enjoy the weekend and not keep thinking that far ahead?” Zayn said, his voice dull and low. “I need a break from it all. I know it’s not fair of me to do this but you’re the only person who I can bear to be around right now. You help take off some of this weight and I feel like, um, things just don’t seem so…bleak.” Zayn’s eyes were beginning to tear up and Liam pulled him into a hug.

“I promise not to bring her up again for the rest of this weekend.” Zayn wrapped his arms tighter around him and Liam could feel snow fall onto his forehead and shoulders. “Let’s get dinner,” Liam said when he pulled away from the hug.

 

 

***

 

The next morning, Liam woke up to a handwritten note on his pillow which said that Zayn had gone to get them breakfast from the dining hall in the main house. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the white ceiling. One more sleep and all of this would be over. They’d be back in London and be back to the daily grind. He glanced at his phone which he had put on silent during the night. There were several missed calls, some from his sister and another from Sophia. They would be wondering where he was. He placed his phone back on the nightstand and got up to shower. Later as he entered the room, still towelling off his wet hair, he saw his phone blinking with the new text message banner. He picked it up.

 _“_ _Something 2 remember me by”_ Zayn’s SMS read. Liam sat on the bed and looked at the attached pictures. The first one was them smiling up at the camera, Liam’s arm around Zayn. The next was a bit blurred due to the motion of the camera, in it they were kissing. It gave Liam a strange pang in his chest to look at it. It would be so easy to go into his contact list, dig out Perrie’s number and text her the picture.

Liam’s fingers trembled and he shook his head. He could never do that to Zayn. It would be cheap and vindictive. Zayn already had so many people like that in his life, Liam didn’t need to be one of them. He closed the picture and set his phone aside. He was settled in front of the TV watching a rerun of _2 Broke Girls_ when Zayn came back carrying two plastic bags filled with takeaway cartons.

“The lady of the house is displeased,” Zayn said as he pushed the door closed. He shook flakes of snow from his head as he placed the food on the glass table. He took his coat off and sat down next to Liam. “Apparently the dining hall Sunday buffet does not do breakfast takeaways. I somehow managed to convince her that you’re sick and in your invalid state you couldn’t drag yourself out into the cold to get some food.”

Liam laughed. “Tell me again, how did you find this place?”

“My aunt has vacationed here a few times and mentioned it to me. She’s a bit techno phobic and always lamented the fall of the golden age before computers, tablets and the internet. I just liked the idea of being somewhere where we I didn’t have to be connected to everything.”

Liam raised his cellphone and tapped it against Zayn’s arm. “In a way we still are connected.”

“We don’t have to be.” Zayn took the phone and switched it off. He reached into his trouser pocket, pulled out his iPhone and did the same. “There.”

They ate their breakfast of bangers, mashed potatoes with gravy followed by fresh cheese croissants and brewed coffee. The food was absolutely delicious. He realised that when they leave tomorrow he would miss it. Afterwards, when they were pleasantly full, they curled up on the sofa and watched more TV. Halfway through Downton Abbey, Liam dozed off and was awoken by Zayn placing a blanket over him. He blinked and smiled, slow and lazy, up at Zayn.

“You look adorable when you sleep,” Zayn said.

“Before we leave there’s something I want to do,” Liam said as Zayn feathered the side of his jaw with warm kisses.

“Yeah, what?” Liam reached to pull Zayn’s head up, running his fingers alongside the short hair on Zayn’s nape. He felt along the shell of Zayn’s earlobe before gently tugging on the small gold loop there.

“I want you to pierce my ears,” Liam said. “I read up on it online and it’s fairly easy. I got supplies when we were out last night.” Zayn’s eyes were wide. Liam tugged slightly at Zayn’s own earring for emphasis. “Will you do it?”

“Yeah, if it’s something you want.” Zayn licked his bottom lip. “Let’s do it.” Zayn got up with Liam following after him. He retrieved the packet of goods he had obtained from the all-night chemist while Zayn had been at Marks. Inside the small white plastic bag was Savlon solution, a packet of sterilised cotton wool, a needle, and a pair of studded metal earrings. He handed Zayn the cotton wool and the disinfectant solution.

“We need to sterilise my earlobe first,” Liam said. He sat on the edge of the bed, parting his legs so Zayn could fit between his thighs.

“Do you want to pierce both or just the one?” Zayn tilted Liam’s head to the side.

“Let’s do just the one.”

“Left or right?”

“Uhh, left.” Zayn adjusted his head so it was bent to the right. Liam closed his eyes and heard the sound of the plastic bottle snapping open and then the too sharp, too sterile smell of the Savlon solution hit his nostrils. He felt the warm press of Zayn’s fingers on his ear and then the cold, tingling sensation of the Savlon solution being rubbed onto his earlobe. Zayn stepped away from him and when he returned he placed a warm palm on his shoulder, rubbing gently at him.

“This will hurt a bit,” Zayn said. Liam nodded and bit his lip waiting for it. He felt the acute sting of the needle and flash of pain shoot through the flesh of his ear. Then he felt Zayn dabbing at the area, and blowing warm air on his ear, soothing him. There was a loud tearing sound, probably the pharmacy earring packet being torn open.

“Wait, I don't want to wear those earrings.” Liam opened his eyes. “I want one of yours.”  Zayn dropped the earrings onto the bed and went to his suitcase and rummaged through it for a while. He pulled out a small, palm-sized black jewellery box.

“I think these would suit you,” Zayn said, almost shyly. He opened the box and for a split second, Liam knew what girls probably felt like when a guy got on one knee and presented them with a ring. It was a strange blend of surprise - Zayn knowing which earring would look good on him - excitement because Liam loved getting gifts from Zayn, and last of all, there was the undeniable wave of affection he felt towards Zayn.  “They're a sterling silver onyx set on white gold.” Zayn picked out one of the earrings and carefully put it on Liam. There was twinge of pain when the sharp back of the earring touched his earlobe. But it was a good sort of pain that was bearable and even faintly erotic. Zayn leaned close and blew on his ear again while running a hand through Liam's hair. Liam sighed, pressing his head gently into Zayn's hands.

“Your ear is a bit red. How does it feel?” Zayn asked, his hands still stroking Liam's hair.

“It stings.” Liam squeezed his thighs around Zayn and tilted his head back. “The earrings are beautiful. Please wear the other one.”

Zayn stared down at him, his eyes inscrutable and as deep as the Atlantic Ocean. He ran his hand through Liam's hair again, eliciting a groan from Liam, before raising both hands to pull off the small, gold hoop earrings he wore. He picked up the Van Cleef and Arpels jewellery box from off the bed, putting on the stud earring on his right ear. “Perfect.”

Liam breathed in before pulling Zayn on top of him and scooting them up the bed.

They had sex. Zayn pinning him against the mattress, his body an enveloping heat from Liam’s shins to the top of his scalp. His movements so languid and precise they make Liam want to scream with frustration but were so perfect, so good he sobbed out his moans into the pillow. Biting into it when he climaxed, gasping and catching his breath as he felt Zayn chase and reach his own orgasm.

Afterwards, they lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling. “Tomorrow we‘re going back,” Zayn said.

“Back to school, back to reality,” Liam sang out. It hurt to think about how all of this was coming to an end. It had been brief but he had enjoyed it while it lasted. The real world meant him keeping his distance from Zayn. It meant that there was a wedding in which he would have to watch Zayn promise himself to Perrie and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Liam, we can still meet up, if you want?” The words were spoken quietly but the impact of them was so loud, like a shotgun going off in the dead of the night.

“I’m not sure if we should.” Liam shifted onto his side and ran his hands down the front of Zayn’s chest and then lower, idly tracing the tattoos on Zayn’s lower midriff with his fingertips.

“Okay,” Zayn said. His voice was low and Liam could hear the dejected tone to it. Liam wanted to say that it was easier this way, easier to cut their ties when the scent of Zayn still lingered on his skin and he could feel the sweet, light-hearted buzz he got when Zayn was near him. Liam knew if he didn’t try to keep his distance, he wouldn’t be able to stay put and he would give into the stomach-churning jealousy he felt. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from trying to find a way so that he and Zayn would be together, not for stolen kisses and quick fucks in B&Bs in the middle of nowhere, but _properly_ together. And he would be wrong to even try for something like that because that dream, the one where he could reach for Zayn’s hand whenever he wished, the one where they spent their lives together building something, was his and he didn’t know what Zayn wanted. But the truth of the matter was; he didn’t have it in him to say no and call it quits, because for as long as Zayn wanted him, Liam would be there.

“But if you need to see me, I’ll find a way to get to you,” Liam said, throwing all caution to the wind. He pressed his fingers into the gun tattoo on Zayn’s hip, feeling reckless and giddy. “We can stop any time, right?” Liam put his palm flat on Zayn’s stomach just below his belly button and above his pubic bone. Zayn’s skin was warm against his palm. “So what's a few more hook ups, eh?”

Zayn covered Liam’s hand with his own and pushed it down so it covered his half-hard cock and Liam took that as a _yes_.

 


	11. Seven days before the Wedding

They didn’t stop seeing each other. It was risky, and they both knew it. Every kiss, every hug, every glance was potential career suicide. They turned their trysts into a game. Storage lockers became groping rooms, empty sound stages became snog central. At the end of the night, Liam would rent out limos. He and Zayn would end up being driven around aimlessly as they exchanged blowjobs in the back seat with the privacy partition pulled up. The drivers never asked any questions, which suited him fine, but Liam always felt compelled to tip more than usual.

Sometimes, Zayn visited Liam’s flat and they would do it there. When they ran out of places they tried for Harry's flat. 

“Zayn is trying to escape the wedding fever that has overcome his family,” Liam said to Harry over the phone.

Harry gave a slow “Riiight,” causing Liam to flush. Harry _knew_ what they were going to use his flat for.

“You’re in LA. It’s not like you need it,” Liam said.

Harry told Liam that he’d be back in England in time for the wedding next week and the pair of them had to get the flat keys from his assistant.

Somewhere in between all of this, Liam realised that he and Zayn were having an affair. He'd lost count of how many times he and Zayn had had sex. It was somewhere between _‘_ this one-time’ and a hundred. Enough times to qualify as a full-on, full-throttle, full-blown affair. Somehow they never faced the fact that in a few days Zayn was getting married. It seemed surreal, and, especially when Zayn had his legs wrapped around him as Liam fucked him on Harry’s bed, it didn’t seem important. Nothing mattered. Not the wedding-tux fitting that Liam had attended-that very same morning with Zayn. Not the gown that had arrived for Sophia two days earlier, or the bruises that Liam left on Zayn’s thighs. _A wedding gift for you, Perrie_ , Liam thought bitterly.

As they lay in bed, Zayn dragged on a cigarette, exhaling clouds of smoke. Liam reached over, taking the cigarette from Zayn’s lips and placing it between his own. “How do I look?” He asked as he hollowed out his cheekbones and sucked hard.

“Really hot,” Zayn murmured. Liam didn’t draw the smoke in deeply knowing his tolerance was low. He exhaled slowly watching as whiffs of smoke flew up to Harry’s ceiling.

“Harry will be so pissed that we’re smoking in his bed,” Liam said.

“Do you think he suspects about us?” Zayn took the cigarette back from Liam and took a drag off it. “He sounded a bit off on the phone.”

Liam shrugged casually. “Who knows with Harry?”

“At least he’s not judgemental and telling us that what we’re doing isn’t right and yadda yadda, blah blah.”

“But he’d have a point, wouldn’t he? You’re getting married in a few days. I just watched my girlfriend shop for a wedding present for you earlier today. Yet ten minutes ago, I was fucking you.”

“What did Sophia pick?” Zayn asked, a bit nonplussed.

“I don’t know. She was looking at fancy coffee makers.”

“I think Perrie’s aunt has already bought us one of those.”

“You’re avoiding the issue.”

“I wasn’t aware that you expected me to address it. You certainly haven't seemed to mind when we're fucking.” Zayn sighed and extinguished his cigarette in the mug he was using as an ashtray then sat up on the bed. “What do you want me to do? Call off the wedding and run away with you?”

Liam suppressed the urge to shout “Yes!” and instead, as calmly as he could manage, said, “I don’t think you love her, not in the way you claim, anyway. Why marry her?”

Zayn squeezed his eyes shut and knocked his head back on the headboard. “Things will be… easier for me if I do.”

“Is this about your father? You’re an adult with your own money, you don’t need-”

“Why haven’t you broken up with Sophia?” Zayn asked, eyes hard and far colder than Liam could ever have imagined them being.

Liam shrugged. “She’s been looking forward to the wedding. I’ll finish things with her afterwards.”

“You’re such a gentleman,” Zayn said with a sarcastic smile.

“Yeah, I’m a fucking prize, just like you.” Liam got off the bed and began to pull on his clothes. When he looked up, Zayn was watching him.

“Liam, don’t be like this.”

“Be like what?”

“Prissy.”

“I’m prissy? You know what, Zayn? Bugger off!” Liam shoved his feet into his trainers and marched to the living room to get his car keys.

“Liam, please don’t leave,” Zayn said following behind him.

Liam turned abruptly, closing the distance between them. “I’m starting to get the sick feeling that you are planning to go ahead with this bullshit wedding. And more than that, I have a feeling that when you and your missus get back from the whatever honeymoon destination you’ve got lined up, I’ll be getting a call or a text or a goddamn email from you inviting me over to some B&B in the middle of nowhere so you can get off in the way that you can’t with the missus. Then you’ll have two maybe three kids and I’ll be funny ‘Uncle Liam’ that dad disappears with on weekends. But guess what, Zayn? I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to stand around and waste a few more years of my life being side-lined by you. I can’t do it.”

Zayn took a step towards him. “I love you, Liam.”

Liam blinked; Zayn had never said that to him before—well, not without any cameras around. “Unless you mean it, don’t say that to me− especially when we are alone together! It fucking hurts me.”

“But I do. Please tell me you love me. I really need to hear it.” Zayn pressed his body close, wrapping his arms around Liam and buried his face against Liam’s neck, when Zayn spoke his words were muffled. “Even if you don’t really mean it. You can call me next week and tell me you were lying, I won’t hold it against you.”

Liam found himself sinking into Zayn’s embrace. “I love you.” The words left his lips out of their own accord, words which Liam had held in for as long as he had known Zayn.

In the past three years, Liam had questioned many things about himself, his morals, his sexuality--even his own sanity. But he had never questioned his love for Zayn. This was something Liam felt when he’d pulled Zayn by the scruff of his leather jacket into his arms. It was the way Zayn looked at him in the morning, his eyes puffy and hair sticking up all over the place. It was in the way, all those years ago, Zayn had been so sure of Liam’s talent, always cheering him on even when Liam doubted his own capabilities.

And now Liam had to watch the only guy he’d ever loved marry someone else.


	12. Three days before the Wedding

Zayn insisted he didn’t want a stag party but Louis ignored his plaintive pleas and organised one. This is how Liam found himself with Zayn, Niall, Harry, and a few others he recognised as being Zayn’s friends or relatives in a strip-club in Essex. The club was called Teasers and it promised ‘the tease without the sleaze’. A promise that it failed at horrendously because all Liam could see was one sleazy stripper after another sleazy stripper on stage. He was fairly convinced that half of them were providing escort services as well, given the all-too-satisfied expression of one of Zayn’s cousins when he came back from a private viewing room in the back.

The interior of the club was dim, with a clutter of red and black patent leather couches arranged around metallic tables. In the centre of the room was a stage where they watched the ladies perform their various routines. Louis and Niall were staring up at the stage, slack-jawed with a few quid in their closed fists as they waited for their opportunity to ‘make it rain’ as Niall had put it. Zayn looked almost as bored as Liam felt. Harry was typing away on his phone, probably to his new girlfriend. The other lads were seated in a booth next to them, which pleased Liam as he knew their faces but not their names and he didn’t have to interact with them more than he already had.

“Take one last good look,” Niall said as he pointed to the stage where a petite brunette with very large fake breasts gyrated up and down a pole. “You have condemned yourself to never looking at another pair of those. If I was you I would cop a feel while I still could.”

“I’ll think I’ll pass,” Zayn said.

“The missus isn’t here,” Louis interjected. “I’m sure she and the other birds are having a hell of a time with the faux Chippendales, feeling up their bulging packages and what-not.”

“Perrie doesn’t do things like that.”

“Okay, if you won’t cop a feel then I’ll offer myself up.” Niall took a long drink of his beer then wiped at his chin where some had dribbled. “If I don’t come back, so you lads know, it was a pleasure touring with you. Um, I’m leaving all my shoes to Liam.” He got up and approached the stage, grinning widely. The brunette sashayed from the pole and started to dance at the edge of the stage where Niall stood. He loo ked back at them, winked then stuffed a few quid onto the waistband of the thong the woman was wearing. She crouched to do some hip thrusts and Niall used the opportunity to grab and squeeze her oversized breasts. Something that wasn’t allowed from the various signs that were up around the place. But being part of the biggest music act in the country had taught Liam that money talked. There was nothing that couldn’t be bought or rules that couldn’t be compromised. That was just how it was.

Harry placed his phone down, apparently done with his texting and picked up his lager to take a sip. He glanced at Liam and then at Zayn with an assessing expression on his face. They weren’t seated that close to one another but Liam still had to fight the urge to shift away and he felt his face begin to heat up. He knew that Harry knew and even though he knew Harry wasn’t the judgemental type, he still felt like he was being psychoanalysed by those cool green eyes. His first instinct was to become defensive. If Harry asked he would say, _Wouldn’t you, given the opportunity, to do the same?_ And they both knew the answer to that. With Niall gone, there was no buffer between Harry and Louis. Although they had greeted one another pleasantly enough when the evening began, Liam could still tell that things were tense between them. They never looked at each other and they kept a safe distance between their bodies. Liam took a sip of his own drink; he had decided to keep a clear head for tonight so his drink was as fruity and non-alcoholic as they came.

Liam glanced up at the stage. Niall was having the time of his life dancing with the strippers. One of Zayn’s friends was being ushered into the back for a private dance. Liam sighed and sank back in his seat. He didn’t want to be in this club with its loud music, dim lighting and all these people around him.

“How was LA?” Zayn asked Harry.

Harry shrugged. “Busy.” He glanced at Louis. “I missed the people back home.” Louis was studying the contents of his drink like it had all the answers to every question he had ever wanted to know.

The music was thrumming loudly and Liam had to shout over it. “And the renovations to the new house, how are they going?” he asked.

“The contractor ripped the roof saying it was a hazard. The beams were weak so there was risk of it coming down.” Harry took a sip of his beer. “Next time we’re in LA for a show you guys are all invited to stay at my house.”

“Yeah, we would get on,” Zayn said. He glanced at the stage and smiled. “Niall is having a good time.” Liam followed his gaze and saw that now Niall was in a three-way dance with the brunette from earlier and a redhead wearing a green, orange and white cheerleading outfit.

“Is she supposed to be an Irish cheerleader?” Louis asked.

“Is there such a thing?” Harry said.

“I’m sure there is,” Louis said, as he and Harry exchanged smiles.

“I see while I was gone you decided to rock out with some serious bling.” Harry pointed to the stud earring on Liam’s left ear. 

Liam reached to his ear and touched it. It still hurt whenever it got tugged or when he cleaned the area but for the most part he forgot he had his ear pierced. “Well, what can I say? I'm rocking out with my stud out.”

A blonde dressed in a tight silver mini-dress approached their table, an inviting smile teasing the corners of her red lips.

“You boys want a lap dance?” she asked. She was American and her accent was sweet as ginger biscuits. It was Southern, or a variation of a Southern accent. She glanced around the table, blue eyes meeting each and every one of them. Harry shook his head and Louis was staring at his drink again.

Zayn glanced at Liam. Liam cocked an eyebrow. _You wanna?_ “My mate and I would like a dance,” Zayn said, his eyes still on Liam.

The blonde glanced at Liam then back at Zayn. “It will cost you double.”

“That’s fine,” Zayn said.

“Follow me.” She sashayed away, hips rolling exaggeratedly.

Liam scooted past Harry, and waited for Zayn to make his way past Louis, and together they followed after her. “You sure about this?” Liam asked as they were escorted past velvet curtains.

“I’ve never had a lap dance before,” Zayn said. “My stag party seems like a good time as any.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, have you had one?’

“Danielle enjoyed all forms of dance.” Liam smiled. “Even the exotic kind.”

The blonde led them into an oval room decorated like a boudoir. There was a seat and three silver steps leading to a stand in the centre of the room. On the stage was a silver strip pole affixed to the low ceiling. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked as she reached behind one of the cushions and pulled out a remote. They shook their heads and sat down. She pressed a button and the lights dimmed as music began to play. “I’m Dallas, by the way.”

“Like the city?” Zayn asked, conversationally.

“Like the TV show.” Dallas put down the remote; she stepped up onto the mini stage and draped herself around the pole. Liam sat back awkwardly and watched her grind on the strip pole. Her movements were languid but the routine felt mechanical and over-rehearsed. She jumped, laced her legs on the pole and turned so she was upside down, all while her mouth was wide open in fake ecstasy. Liam rubbed his palms on his jeans and glanced at Zayn who was pressed back on his seat, his arms dangling out on his sides as if he didn't know what to do with them.

The song changed to something with a fast tempo. It sounded vaguely familiar but Liam couldn’t place the husky lyrics blasting from the surround speakers. Dallas moved down onto her knees crawling toward Zayn, she had hiked up the mini-dress revealing a bikini that looked about three sizes too small for her. She placed her hands on Zayn’s knees and pushed them apart, dipping her head down to his groin before backing away and smiling at him seductively. She got to her feet, pulled off her mini-dress and pushed down her bikini top to reveal her pert breasts before she turned around so she could place her bottom on Zayn’s lap. Liam crossed his arms and looked away.

“Could you stop?” Dallas and Liam both turned to look at Zayn who was grimacing and holding his arms stiffly away from Dallas.

“Excuse me?” Dallas asked, frowning.

“Thanks for the dance.” Zayn politely helped her off his lap and onto her feet. “I’ll leave a generous tip for you when I settle the bill. Do you mind if you give us some privacy for a bit? My friend and I would like to… talk.”

“You want to talk?” She glanced at Liam, at Zayn, then back at Liam. “I can do another dance routine if you didn’t like the one I was doing.”

“You were great,” Liam said. Dallas without her come-hither routine and with her Southern accent forgotten looked and sounded much younger than the seductress who had led them confidently into the private room. “We just need to discuss something. Okay?”

“Okay.” She awkwardly picked up the silver mini-dress and covered her breasts and walked out of the room.

“I thought you wanted a lap dance,” Liam said, once the door closed.

“I do.” Zayn said sitting back down. “But not from her.”

“Then from who?” Liam said, fake-frowning.

“Come here,” Zayn said as he spread his knees apart. Liam stood up and walked over to stand between Zayn’s denim-clad thighs.

“This music isn’t the greatest.”

“I’ve seen you work with less.” Zayn looked up at him, smiling wickedly. “Show me some of your best moves.”

“I’m not sure you can handle what I’ve got.” Liam licked his lips and began to sway his hips, thrusting along with the steady thump, thump, thump of the music. He placed his right knee on the seat next to Zayn and hooked his other leg on Zayn’s left side so he was hovering over Zayn’s crotch. He lowered his arse, brushing Zayn’s crotch, once, twice. “You are allowed to touch,” he said, lowering his head to kiss Zayn’s mouth, enjoying Zayn's fast breathing. He grabbed Zayn’s left hand and placed it on his arse. “Later, I want you to fuck me really hard.”

Zayn gasped and Liam smiled and kissed him, this time deeper and a bit harder, tasting the malt lager and the faint salt of the nuts Zayn ate earlier. He leaned back, pulled off his shirt, and while looking at Zayn through half-closed eyes, he raised his hands to his chest, rubbing his own nipples and then slid his palms down his sternum, over his stomach, stopping just at the top of his jeans.

“Do you want to see how hard I am?” Liam unbuttoned his jeans, his eyes never leaving Zayn’s. He slowly unzipped, then reached through his zipper and gripped his cock. Zayn’s grip on his arse tightened. Liam licked his lips to place a wet kiss on Zayn’s chest, right over his heart. He was pulling out his cock when the door opened and Niall walked into the room, blinking drunkenly at the scene he'd stumbled across.

“Fuck,” Liam breathed out as he scrambled off Zayn’s lap. He turned around to zip up his jeans then looked around for his discarded shirt.

“What’s-?” Niall said behind him.

“Could you close the door, please?” Zayn said. Liam picked up his shirt, put it on, brushed back his hair, and turned around. Niall had closed the door, his eyes wide. Zayn was still seated with his legs crossed. Probably to cover the erection Liam had felt pressed up against him earlier.

“Is anyone going to explain because I’m starting to think…?” Niall gave a nervous laugh. “I’m not sure what to think.”

Liam shrugged. “We’re just goofing around. You know, pranking the groom.”

“Zayn, you’re getting married in three days,” Niall said. His voice was anguished. “I can’t have seen what I just saw.”

“Niall, just please-” Zayn began to say then stopped and dropped his head into his hands.

Liam wanted to go to Zayn and hug him but instead he walked to Niall. “What you’ve just witnessed can’t leave the room.” The music was still playing and it was ridiculous how it didn’t suit the sunken feeling in his stomach. “Please.”

“I’d never tell anyone but this is intense.” Niall patted Liam’s shoulder. “Don’t look at me like I’m about to run through the halls and announce that I caught you giving Zayn a lap dance. I need a moment to process. Zayn, are you all right there, mate? You look like Alex Ferguson during the 2008 FA finals. “

Zayn raised his head. “I'm dealing.”

“So let’s sit down like proper lads and work through things.” Niall sat beside Zayn.

Liam sat down, next to Niall. “So, how long has this been going on?”

“Three weeks,” Zayn said.

Liam glanced at Zayn. For him, this thing had started the second he pinned Zayn against the lift wall and kissed him. “Four months.”

“Four months,” Zayn agreed.

“Four months is a long time,” Niall said. “Where does Perrie factor into all of this?”

“I’m marrying Perrie,” Zayn said flatly.

“I know the song and dance. We’re never been happier. We’re so in love. Cut the BS and give me the courtesy of a real answer,” Niall said. Despite all the lager Niall had downed earlier, Liam thought he had never seen him look more sober.

“The invitations have been sent, the venue’s paid for, and we've booked the Windsor room for the rehearsal dinner. Fucking _Hello_ is doing a fifteen-page spread. I’m marrying Perrie.”

“Zayn, do you know what you’ve just listed? Sunk costs.” Niall said. “Back at school in Economics they used to list costs that shouldn’t be taken into account for future decision making. Regardless of what you think, all of those things are sunk costs. They are irrelevant to what will happen three days from now. And, as a friend, I’m telling you if those are the only reasons why you want to go ahead with this wedding then I have a feeling that you shouldn’t, because not once have I heard you say what you _feel_ about Perrie.”

Liam swallowed and looked down. These were the things he’d stopped saying to Zayn because he didn’t want to be in a position where he was giving him ultimatums. Regardless of what he had said to Zayn, if Zayn ever needed him, he would be there. As much as Liam knew he should walk away he knew he would always be waiting.

“I adore Perrie,” Zayn said.

“Then I wish you a long prosperous life with her,” Niall said. “Liam, can I have a quick word with you?”

Liam looked up quickly at Niall. The lecture was coming. It wouldn't do any good. No one was harder on him than himself. There was nothing that Niall could say or names that he could call him that he hadn't called himself. “Okay,” he said, resigned.

“You guys can stay here. The other lads are probably wondering where we disappeared to anyway.” Zayn got up and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Usher was now playing, singing, _“It’s seven o’clock on the dot, I’ve got my drop top cruising the streets.”_ Much better than whatever had been playing earlier when he was-- when he had been--

“Does Harry know about you and Zayn?” Niall asked.

“Yes.”

“And Louis?”

“No.”

“Does Zayn know about Harry?”

Liam looked up sharply. Cold sweat prickled on the back of his neck. “What about Harry?”

“You and Harry.”

“There’s no me and Harry.”

“Liam, don’t lie to me. I saw you guys in bed together. Having sex.”

Liam’s stomach was a hollow hole. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. “I’m the slut of the band. Trolloping between Harry and Zayn. Two down, two to go, huh?”

“I just want to understand what’s going on with you. This...” Niall gestured at him and around the room. “Isn’t you. You’re not even gay.”

“Well Zayn and Harry’s cocks up my arse puts that statement in question.”

Niall blushed, his cheeks turning a rosy pink. “Why?”

“I love him.” And the ‘him’ in the statement was so precise it left no question to who it could possibly be.

“And Harry?”

“I was lonely and he... He knows what it’s like to want someone more than you want to breathe.”

Niall rubbed his hands over his face. “If you feel this way why are you still with Sophia?”

“I don’t know.” Liam was too scared to look at Niall so he brushed non-existent lint off his jeans. “I just wish things were - I don’t know. It’s just…” He shrugged.

“I know.” Niall got to his feet. “Let’s go back to the bar and I’ll buy you a real drink and not the girly stuff you’ve been drinking all night.”

“Okay.” Liam allowed Niall to lead him out of the front of the club. There was a new girl up on the stage. She was black with chestnut shoulder length hair. She was dressed in a cowgirl outfit and was giddy-upping to a remixed Dolly Parton song. Zayn’s friends had dispersed, and the few who remained looked drunk or stoned out of their minds. Their heads bobbed to the slow beat of the music, eyes hazed and unfocused as they watched the show. Harry was seated at their table, his fingers making quick work of it as he sent a text from his phone. Louis and Zayn were nowhere to be seen. Liam followed Niall to the bar where they made their orders, once they both had jugs filled with lager they returned to their table.

“Where’s the rest of the gang?” Niall asked. He set the drinks onto the table.

“Zayn fucked off as soon as he got back from his private dance. Cum'ers guilt,” Harry said, as he pocketed his phone. “Louis got a call from his mum and had to leave. I was about to leave as it seems like the party is pretty much dead. Weren’t we supposed to have a stag weekend?”

“Like Perrie would ever let Zayn out of her sight for that long so close to the wedding.” Niall sat down and brought his jug to his lips. “Who knows what might happen if, God forbid, he had the time to properly think things through and realise that maybe he’s too young to be getting married.”

“Now you sound like Liam.” Harry reached for his drink. “Is there anybody who wants this wedding to happen?”

“Hello magazine. They expect it to be bigger than the Royal wedding,” Niall said.

“I just want it to be over with already,” Liam said. And then Harry and Niall were staring at him and he didn’t need to look into their eyes to see the piteous expressions they were probably wearing. “Fuck this shit.” Liam knocked the cup of lager over, got to his feet and raced out of the club, not bothering to look back at Niall and Harry. He felt his phone buzz and he reached for it, his heart hammering wildly in his chest.

_I promised never to give up. I’m sorry, s_ aid the text. Liam stared at his phone, dumbfounded, waiting for another message to buzz through. He stared and stared before he stuffed his phone into his pocket and sunk down onto the grimy pavement. His bones, muscle, and flesh felt like they weighed a million pounds. The streets were deadly quiet, the world seemingly frozen. Zayn had made a promise years ago to him, goddammit, not her.


	13. Four years Ago

Liam stood in front of the mirror in the lavatory looking at his reflection. Drops of water were still sliding down his face and he reached for the paper towel dispenser, grabbed a handful, and dabbed at his forehead and cheeks. His nerves were killing him. The thing was, he knew he was a good singer. On a good day he was an excellent singer, but standing on that stage and having people judge him and decide whether he would be staying or leaving was nerve-racking.

Today was the day.  They would be telling him and the other contestants if they would be progressing in the competition. Liam hoped that history wouldn’t repeat itself. He felt his stomach churn and he closed his eyes, taking slow steadying breaths. He exhaled and reminded himself why he was here and that no matter what the outcome was he could make it. He threw the damp paper towels away and was leaving the bathroom when he heard a small sound come from the closed stalls.

He paused, his hand outstretched to the door handle. The judges would have decided by now and everyone was expected to convene in the main hall. He needed to get going. He grabbed the door handle, and was almost half way out when he heard a whimper, low and quiet. He’d spent a few nights crying himself so he knew the sound when you cried into your own pillow or arm hoping to have the sound stifled. He should just keep going; whoever it was probably didn’t want to be bothered. God knows, he didn’t like to have people around him when he went into his depression spells. He let the door shut close and went back in the bathroom, knocking on the stall before he could tell himself it was a bad idea.

“Hello? Are you all right in there?” Liam cringed internally on the cheesiness of his words. He wasn’t sure what to expect but then there was the sound of shuffling of feet and the door was unlocked. He knew the boy who appeared on the other side of the door. His name was Zayn. Liam had seen him around during the competition. Zayn’s eyes were red and he was brushing at his cheeks while he looked at Liam. They stood awkwardly for a moment. Liam reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief and offered it to Zayn who looked at it with such abject horror Liam felt more like he was holding out a handful of toads. “You need to blow your nose.”

“Thanks,” Zayn took the handkerchief and blew his nose.

“Tough competition, huh?” Liam said.

“It’s supposed to be a singing competition.” Zayn had finished wiping his nose and held the handkerchief in his hand for a second before he stuffed it in his jeans pocket. “Why do we have to dance?”

“I guess they want us to be performers as well. Look at Justin Bieber - he does a lot of dancing.”

“And if you can’t dance, you’re just screwed.” Zayn stalked to the sink and washed his hands. Liam hovered, not sure if the conversation was over. He’d heard the other guys gossiping about another kid in their team who was terrible at dancing and who had tried to hide during the dance routine only to be found out by Simon Cowell.

“You have the best voice in your team. I’m sure the judges will take vocal capabilities into consideration when they decide.”

“I’m not sure if that’s enough.” Zayn turned off the tap, turned around and leaned against the washbasin. “What do you plan on doing if you get sent home?’

“I’ve been sent home before, it’s not the end of the world.”  But it sure as shit felt like it. The taunts from the children at his school had been the worst. Everything else he had been able to deal with. “And I’m not going to take it as a final answer. I have this idea in my head of what my life can be like and what kind of career I can have. I just want to keep working on it no matter what.”

“You sound like a proper grown-up,” Zayn said. “How old are you?”

“I just turned seventeen in August.”

“You’re younger than me? Really?” Zayn shook his head. “And you have, like, all of your life planned out already.”

Liam shrugged. “What are you going to do if you get sent home?”

“I definitely won’t try again. The rejection would be too much.” Zayn laughed shakily. “I’ll probably go to Sixth Form College, get my A-Levels and then go to the University of East Anglia.”

“University of East Anglia? That’s far out.” Liam didn’t think he’d go back to school unless he had to. He was glad to be finished and the idea of subjecting himself to more boring classes for another few more years was unthinkable. Besides, he was a crap student and with his marks he wasn’t going to easily get into any of the top unis. He really didn’t have much going for him besides the singing.

“They have a very good English department.”

“I don’t think I’d want to be subjected to more school.”

 “I’m Zayn, by the way,” Zayn said, holding out his hand.

“I’m Liam.” He shook Zayn's hand.

“Cry me a river, Liam?”

“Is that what they’re calling me?”

“Some guys were talking about the judges favourites. Apparently Cheryl loved your audition. She said your voice is brilliant.” Liam felt his cheeks warm and noticed, not for the first time, the soft shape of Zayn’s cheeks, the slope of his mouth and his eyes which were a warm golden honey brown. His every feature was set exquisitely like it was moulded by some great artist. --So different from himself, with his wide forehead and too big nose. He realised he was still holding onto Zayn's hand and he let go of it.

“I’ve been working with a voice coach, which made a huge difference.” Liam glanced at his watch, almost eleven. “The judges will make their announcement soon.” As the words left his mouth he saw Zayn’s smile collapse and he wanted to kick himself. “Zayn, I’ve heard you sing and it would be a shame if you didn’t share your voice with the world.” He knew his face was probably blotchy and red but he had to get the words out. “I’m not an expert on singing, far from it but if I have decided to quit the first time I was booted off, I would not be here. And being here means being a step closer to the dream. My mum says if you care about something you have to fight for it and never give up.” Feeling brave, Liam held out his hand to Zayn. “So promise me you won’t ever give up.”

Zayn stared at Liam’s outstretched palm. “I’m not sure I can make that promise.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re being sent home today,” Liam said and then Zayn raised his hand and clasped it around his and they shook hands, for the second time.

“I promise never to give up,” Zayn said. His palm was warm and Liam felt a frisson of electricity go up his arm. They shook on it, until reluctantly, he let go of Zayn’s hand once more and together they walked out the bathroom to the main hall where their uncertain futures were to be decided.

 


	14. Three days before the Wedding

Even as he was led through the giant gate by the security guard Liam knew he was making a stupid mistake. He should let things go. He should go home, get into bed, and drink enough so that the wedding rehearsal and the entire ceremony would be nothing but a vague blur. Like a fool, Liam was holding onto something that didn’t exist.

Zayn wasn’t going to change his mind.

They worked together. Eighty percent of their life was broadcast to the world. Zayn was mostly straight. They were never going to have a happy ending. Liam knew that-- But he remembered the press of Zayn’s body against his, that night, during their first time. The room had been dark, and they had explored each other’s bodies using their hands. Every little discovery, elicited soft gasps from his mouth. He had been freefalling all along and Zayn had caught him, not only securing him but ensuring that Liam was fully accounted for the first time in his life. Liam had felt like he belonged somewhere, like he belonged to someone.

Liam parked the car at the front of the building. He didn’t even know whether or not Zayn was home as every call he made to him was ignored. Liam grew increasingly uneasy when suddenly the door swung open.

“Hello, Liam,” Perrie said, smiling warmly.

“Hi Perrie. Is Zayn here?” Liam asked as he peered over her shoulder. She shook her head and took in his dishevelled appearance.

“I thought he was out with you guys for his stag do.”

“He left and I figured-you know what? Never mind.” It was definitely a bad idea to come here. But it was too late and Perrie was pulling him inside to the living room. There were a group of girls seated in a colourful array of pillows. Some had face masks on while others were getting their nails done by beauticians.

“I’m crashing your hen party,” he realised. Perrie was dialling a number on the house phone and made a shushing motion. She listened for a moment before she hung up. “He’s not answering.” There was a worried look on her face and Liam realised that he didn’t want to be here anymore. He really was on a screw-up roll tonight.

“Maybe he needs time to clear his head away from the lads,” Liam said.

“He’s been doing a lot of that recently.” She twirled her engagement ring on her finger and gave Liam a weak smile and said softly, “He’s not having doubts about the wedding?”

“He wants this.” Liam wasn’t sure why but Zayn was hell-bent on marrying her so he wasn’t lying to her. She studied his face and whatever she saw it appeased her.

Perrie smiled. “We have plenty of snacks. Please have some and wait for Zayn in the den.” She guided him down the hall.

“I really didn’t mean to impose,” Liam said as he sat down on a large sofa.

“You’re hardly imposing. You’re concerned about him; it’s very sweet. Plus, it's nice that Zayn has someone looking out for him. I’ll go get you some snacks.” She left the room. Liam used the time to look around. He’d been to Zayn’s house when he'd first bought it. It was big and very posh. It was where he and Perrie would be living when they were husband and wife. The walls had framed pictures of various Marvel characters. Limited edition and first editions of comic action figures were displayed on the wood and steel wall unit. The room felt like Zayn.

Perrie returned, carrying a large tray, and settled it on the table in front of him. “Enjoy,” she said. She got up and walked towards the door. “Nice earring, by the way,” she said as she pulled the door closed.

Liam reached for a mini quiche and bit into it. It was late and God knew where Zayn had disappeared off to. Liam knew that hanging around Zayn’s house with his fiancée in the next room was probably a stupid idea. But he wouldn't be able to go home until he knew that Zayn was all right. Liam turned on the telly where an old episode of _Mind Your Language_ was playing and he settled back to watch it.

 

*******

 

Liam was awakened by someone shaking his shoulder. He knew it was Zayn before he opened his eyes. He could pick Zayn up from a blind line-up from his scent alone. Fresh ashy smoke smudged in with his cologne. So unique, so Zayn. “I had to see you,” Liam said, opening up tired, blurry eyes to look up at Zayn. He adjusted his body on the sofa as he sat up.

“I know,” Zayn said. His tone was resigned. He sat beside Liam.

“You're not upset because I came here?”

“No.”

“The text you sent...” Liam paused glancing at the closed door. This wasn't the place to talk with Perrie on the other side of the wall. “Did you mean it?”

Zayn looked away, and closed his eyes briefly, before opening them again. “Liam, I can't be what you want me to be. And I know I've given you mixed messages and been plain old selfish these past few weeks. I'm--”

“You're marrying Perrie.”

“Yes.” Zayn was leaning in close but pulled away when Liam tensed up. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“Don't be sorry, Zayn. Be happy. And if that's with Perrie, fucking ace. But just don't apologise to me.”  Liam got to his feet.  Zayn remained seated on the sofa, motionless. “And I really do wish you all the best. So make me a promise that you'll live for yourself and make decisions based on what you want and not what other people want or expect of you.”

“I'm not sure I can.”

Liam sighed. “Then I guess I'll see you at the rehearsal dinner.” Liam walked to the front door, half expecting Zayn to run after him. He paused before he grabbed his coat, _please, please, please_ playing in his mind. But there wasn't a rush of footsteps behind him. He blinked back hot tears, put on his coat and stepped outside where the frigid December air gave him a cold embrace.

The drive home was a blur of red, green, and amber lights. He was reckless, skidding on the frozen roads, driving too fast. Once swerving past another car, hearing a car horn being honked and someone shouting, “Bloody wanker!” He couldn't bring himself to care. He arrived home, parked, and took the lift up. He let himself into his too-quiet flat, leaving all the lights off as he walked to the kitchen and took a bottle of vodka from the fridge. He drank it straight from the bottle in large gulps enjoying the burn in his throat. He was wiping at his mouth when the lights came on. He turned around to find Sophia standing in her nightie, her arms crossed.

“Liam, where were you?”

“I was at Zayn's stag do.” And because he could he took another large gulp of the vodka before he returned it to the fridge. He closed it with a resounding click, turned around and leaned against it. He crossed his arms over his chest as he faced Sophia.

“Niall and Harry called looking for you hours ago. They were concerned.”

“They shouldn't have.”

“Shouldn't have what? Been concerned or notify me that you’re out on the prowl?”

“Out on the prowl? Really, Sophia?”

“I know you're seeing someone else,” Sophia said.

Liam went still and waited for her to continue.

“You're not even going to deny it?”

He walked past her to the living room and sat down. Sophia followed him, turning on the lights as she did.

“I would but then I would be lying,” Liam said.

Sophia's eyes brimmed with tears and she rubbed her arms. “I guess I should ask who she is and how long you've been fucking her, but I won't bother because you've broken my heart and I can't look at you anymore.”

“Sophs.”

“Don't--just don't. You used to be a good person.” She wiped at her tears. “And seeing you now is...I miss that boy with the kind eyes.” She got up and walked to the bedroom door. “I'm leaving.”

He sat mutely on the couch listening to Sophia move around in the adjacent rooms. She was packing what little stuff she had brought with her when she stayed at his flat. An overnight bag with her cosmetics and sleeping attire, her toothbrush in his bathroom. It wasn't much actually. Then he heard the final zip up and she had her boots on. She paused at the front door and looked at Liam.

“Do I know her?” she asked.

“Yes.” Liam said, he expected more questions but none came.

“You’re not even going to try to stop me?” When Liam didn’t answer, Sophia stifled a sob, opened the door and walked out of his life.

Liam collapsed backwards onto his sofa, all energy sucked out of him. He curled up into a ball.  A few more days, then this would be all over with.

 

 


	15. One day before the Wedding

They were ushered into the conference room of The Windsor Hotel. The entire wedding rehearsal was beautiful, the starters were delicious, and every meal which was served there after seemed to outdo the one that came before it.

Liam knew most of Zayn's family members since he had met most of them in the past. There a few executives from their record label, Simon and his girlfriend, Ben was there with his wife. Then there were an entire table of people whom Liam didn’t have the foggiest idea who they were. One of the ladies at the table bore a vague resemblance to the bride and Liam deduced that she was related to Perrie.

The rest of the lads were there−Harry with his new girlfriend, an up-and-coming French model who was being called ‘the toast of Milan’ by Esquire UK. Louis was there with Eleanor. Niall had brought a girl called Martina, a friend of Olly's. His band mates must have made a silence pact since none of them asked Liam where Sophia was.

Even though he hadn't told them that he and Sophia had broken up, Liam knew that they knew. 

Eleanor announced that she and Louis would be his date and that had been that. He found himself seated a table away from the Zayn and Perrie show, watching them smile and coo and look so fucking happy that he wanted to gouge his own eyes out with a fork.

Since the night Zayn had finished with him, they hadn't spoken. Liam didn't think he could—not without begging Zayn to call off the wedding or dragging him into a remote corner to fuck some sense into him. So he kept his distance, laughed and smiled at all the right beats during the endless speeches. When the wedding gifts were presented to the happy couple, Liam realised, his and Sophia's gift was buried somewhere in there. He didn't know what they had finally decided on but whatever it was, it would be appropriate and perfect because Sophia didn't do half-measures. Niall tapped Liam on the shoulder, interrupting Liam from his musings. “Yes?” Liam asked.

“You want to go outside for a bit?” Even though it was phrased as a question it wasn't one. Niall's eyes were serious and his voice low. Liam felt uneasy.

“Okay.” He got up and followed Niall through the back and into the estate gardens. The air was crisp and the dark sky cloudless. Niall took a seat on one of the benches by the skeletal rose shrubs and Liam sat beside him.

“I heard you broke up with Sophia.”

“She dumped me. But it was not exactly unexpected.” Liam watched his breath fog and dissipate in the air.

“She's been asking questions.”

“What kind of questions?”

“If we've seen you with any girls on tour. Where were you on the weekend of the twenty-third? Stuff like that.”

“She wants to know who I was sleeping with.”

“Yeah.”

Liam brushed at his ear feeling the cold stud earring. “She told me she didn't want to know.”

“I guess she wanted you to be honest with her.”

“But this isn't why you wanted to talk, is it?”

Niall shook his head. “You can't attend the wedding.”

Liam was sure that he had heard Niall incorrectly. “Excuse me?”

“You can't attend the wedding.”

“And why is that?”

“I've been watching you and I've been watching Zayn. He's under so much stress right now and having you sulk and make him feel guilty will make things worse. And it's not things just between the two of you but for the band. I've heard talk of his lawyers meeting with Simon and it didn't sound good. If you keep pushing Zayn this could mean the end of One Direction.”

“He's making a giant mistake.”

“I know that. But you can't decide for him.” Niall grabbed his free hand and squeezed gently. “You are both my closest friends and it pains me to see you hurt this way. But you making a scene is something that will irrevocably destroy your relationship with Zayn. You're skidding too close to the tracks, man. Let him go.”

“But…” _I saw him first_. He was there long before Zayn even knew Perrie existed. It wasn't fair.

“Let him go,” Niall repeated, gently.

“I don't know how to.” Liam said.

“You just move on and one day it will hurt less.” Harry said from behind them. They both turned to face him. Harry stood a few metres away, and he shivered in his Burberry coat. He approached and sat beside Liam, putting an arm around his shoulders. “It won't be easy and seeing him every day will hurt like hell but then eventually it'll be a distant pain and you'll find that you can cope with it.”

Liam nodded. Harry made it sound so simple. But he'd seen the battle scars of Harry trying to get over Louis. The consequences of walking away were devastating. “What do we say to Zayn?”

“I'll tell him some family stuff came up,” Harry said.

“The press will be all over it. ‘ _Liam Payne misses band mate’s wedding.’_ I can see the headline already,” Niall mused.

“We can have Michael leak something that supports the family emergency story.” Harry patted Liam's arm as he spoke. “Is that all right with you?”

“If you guys think that’s the best course of action, then I won't attend.”

“And don't try to contact him,” Niall said sternly.

“He's not answering my calls or texts so contacting Zayn is impossible.”

“It will be okay, in the end,” Harry said. “It might not feel like it at the moment but it will.”

“Who are trying to convince, me or yourself?” Liam said. Harry didn’t respond.

The three of them sat out in the bench until Harry's phone buzzed and he had to return inside. Niall was uncharacteristically quiet but the silence was comfortable and having him out here was soothing in the best sort of way. For the longest time Liam had felt like tumbleweed floating aimlessly through his own life, he felt like he had no control or say on where he wanted to be. For a little while, Zayn had rooted him. But now it occurred to Liam that maybe it was okay to be rootless and he didn't need something concrete and fixed. Maybe it was time he was his own man. If Zayn wanted to walk down that aisle tomorrow, Liam wasn’t going to stop him.

***

All the rooms had been booked for the guests in the hotel. The wedding ceremony was scheduled at eleven in the morning in a chapel down the road from the hotel. The entire estate was a forty-five minute drive from London. Niall left to go find his date and left Liam out in the estate gardens, shivering in the cold. After a bit. Liam got up from the bench and began to prepare himself for the arduous trek. He let himself through the back terrace and carefully avoided the main conference hall where he could hear Lionel Ritchie's _Hello_ being covered by the band Perrie had hired for the rehearsal dinner. Some dancing couples had drifted out into the wide hallway and were dancing slowly. Liam made his way slowly up the spiral stairs to his room.

The hotel was old-fashioned and still made use of room keys instead of cards. The halls were decorated by old paintings of aristocratic looking gents with their long white beards and bushy eyebrows. The burgundy and gold curtains covered the windows ceiling to floor. The entire place felt like a museum, cold and aloof. Hardly welcoming. It was very different from the B&B that he and Zayn had stayed at. Liam shook his head as he let himself into his room, chasing away unbidden thoughts.

He shut the door behind himself and immediately walked to the wardrobe where he pulled out his overnight suitcase and began to pack away what little stuff he had taken out earlier. He was zipping up the bag when he heard a knock on the door. He carried the suitcase with him to the door where he placed it on its side and opened the door.

“I wanted to check up on you,” Harry said, as he let himself in.

“I'm done packing and I'll be gone shortly,” Liam said, shutting the door and turning to face him. Harry was walking around the room, inspecting the Queen Elizabeth II portrait that hung above the entertainment centre. “If that's what you're asking.”

Harry walked to the window. “Are you going to tell Zayn you're leaving?”

“Why should I? He hasn't picked up any of the calls I've made to him or returned my texts.”

“It doesn't mean he's not reading them.”

“I'll tell him when I arrive in London.”

Harry raised a brow. “Are you hoping he'll read it, decide to call it quits with Perrie and chase after you?”

“I'm hoping to just get through the next few days with my sanity intact. I've stopped pre-empting what Zayn does or doesn't do because he's his own person and it's not fair for me to expect so much from him.” Liam rubbed at his arms. He really needed to be leaving. The drive, although not that long, would be on snowy roads.

Harry walked over and stood in front of Liam. “Look at you, all grown up.”

“I used to be the sensible one,” Liam said. Harry leaned in and kissed him, slow and sweet, on the lips. He was pulling away when Liam reached out a hand to cup the back of his head, and press him closer, deepening the kiss. It was all wrong. Harry's lips were too wide, and he smelt spicy and exotic with no hint of cigarette ash. Liam had to tilt his chin up slightly and the hair that he pressed his fingers into was too soft and too long. But Harry was warm, and solid, and here. The rest, it didn't matter. He began to push Harry backwards into the room, tongue plunging to explore the sweet warmth of Harry's mouth. He dropped his hand from the back of Harry's head and began to unbutton Harry’s shirt when Harry raised his own hands to press firmly on his chest.

“We could do this and it will feel great but then the high will pass and you'll still be sad because Zayn is getting married. This won't resolve anything.” Harry squeezed Liam's fingers between his own.

“You always make me feel good. I want to feel good.” Liam leaned in to capture Harry's lips again, kissing him while grinding his hips against Harry's “You want me, I can tell.”

“Liam, you're gorgeous, sweet, thoughtful, and really, really fit. If I could love you the way I love Lou-, if I could feel just a fraction of what I'm sure you feel for Zayn, it would be you and me, babe. But we can't control who we're in love with. This is not fair on either of us.” Harry kissed him and let go of Liam's hand to brush his cheek, smiling as he did so. “It's because I care so much for you that I'm saying no. Remember what I said, you're going to be all right.”

They kissed again but it was a less heated kiss, there wasn't any sexual intent behind it and Liam knew it would be the last time he would be like this with Harry. The thought frightened him. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to be left behind. He gripped his hand tighter on Harry's shirt and he-

The door creaked open and they both froze. Liam pulled away from Harry, as he let go of the front of Harry's shirt. There was a fist-sized crease where Liam had been gripping the shirt. Harry's lips were wet and red, his cheeks flushed and eyes so wide as he turned to see who it was that had walked in on them. Liam took a breath, ran a hand through his hair, and turned around.

The first person he locked eyes with was Louis who stood immobile by the door, eyes like steel, his face a mask of intense fury. Eleanor stood beside him, drink in hand, as she awkwardly shuffled her feet. Next to her was Perrie, her eyes comically wide as she glanced between him and Harry. And there was Zayn, his face completely devoid of any expression.

“Well, this explains a lot,” Eleanor said, taking a sip of her drink. Her voice was too loud in the quiet room. “This is why Sophia wouldn't say why you guys broke-” she giggled. “Why you guys broke up.”

“Louis…” Harry said as he stepped towards the door.

“Just don't, Harry,” Louis said and stormed off disappearing down the hall.

“Louis!” Eleanor and Harry shouted simultaneously but it was too late and Louis was gone. Harry paused at the door, staring in the direction Louis had gone off into. Liam shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

“Why is Louis so upset?” Eleanor asked but they could see she already knew the answer to that question. No one would meet her eyes as horror slowly set in on her face.

“Eleanor…” Harry said but he was cut off by a loud slap that Eleanor planted on his face. He covered his reddening cheek with his palm as they all watched Eleanor standing, arm still outstretched, the drink shaking in her other hand, her knuckles white, the grip so tight it looked like she could shatter the glass at any moment.

“Fuck you!” Eleanor snapped. She burst into tears and ran out of the room.

“I have to check if she's all right, babe.” Perrie patted Zayn's arm. “It might take a while to calm her down, so in case we don't see each other again, just think that next time you see me I'll be walking down the aisle.” She kissed his cheek and left, following in the direction Eleanor had gone.

Harry walked over to Zayn and turned his face to the side, presenting his other cheek. “You can have a go, mate, if it'll make you feel any better. Just don't get stressed when I show up in your wedding pictures looking like an Oompa Loompah.”

“I'm not going to hit you.” Zayn's voice was low and quiet. It was the same tone he had used that night when he'd used the belt on Liam. “Could you give Liam and me the room?”

Harry glanced at Liam and Liam nodded at him. Harry left the room, closing the door after himself. Zayn walked to the door and locked it before he turned around.

“This isn't the first time that you and Harry have copped off?” Zayn said.

Liam crossed his arms. “No.”

Zayn nodded. “Did you shag him before or after the first time we slept together?”

Liam worked on getting his voice to sound casual and nonchalant when he answered despite the frantic thud of his heart in his chest. “Before.”

Zayn's voice was barely a whisper when he asked. “Did he fuck you?”

Silence stretched in the room.

Liam unfolded his arms and prowled across the space between them. He met Zayn’s eyes dead on. “Yes. Several times. In various positions. And I loved it every single time.”

“I don't want to see you at the reception tomorrow,” Zayn said as he turned to unlock the door.

“That's good because I wasn't planning to attend. Hence that packed suitcase that you see over there.” Liam watched the tense rise and fall of Zayn's shoulders. He watched Zayn's hand as it hovered over the door handle. He wasn't sure what to expect but it definitely wasn't what Zayn said next.

“I won't be coming back to the band. My lawyers have already sent the papers to Simco. I'm cancelling my contract.” And then Zayn was gone.

Liam picked up his suitcase, let his eyes take one last sweep around the room, and left.


	16. The day of the Wedding

 

Liam woke up a few minutes past noon. The first clear thought in his throbbing head was that it was done. Zayn and Perrie were officially Mr and Mrs Malik. Hooray! He rolled onto his side, pulling his bedcovers over his head. When he had arrived home he had switched his phone off and finished the bottle of vodka in his fridge. His pathetic party of one had ended with him doing tequila shots on his balcony, seriously contemplating going onto the penthouse suite and doing his astronaut walk before he had passed out. He rubbed his bleary eyes as he switched his phone on. He had eighty-five WhatsApp messages, forty-two unread texts, couple hundred DMs on Twitter and so many missed calls his Voicemail had committed suicide. If his brain hadn’t been addled by his hangover he would have noticed then that something was up. Instead he shut his phone off. He wasn’t bothered about the wedding gossip or questions about his absence that the DMs were probably about.

The papers and the fans could speculate all they want and draw their own conclusions, he really had no fucks to give on the matter. Liam took a shower but he didn't bother to shave.

As he served himself a bowl of Bran flakes, he made the mistake of turning the telly on. BBC news was broadcasting the match highlights from yesterday's ODIs. The English team had lost horrendously to South Africa. The sports reporter finished her report and handed over to the entertainment journalist who announced:  “Directioners threaten to kill Little Mix star after she left her boyband fiancé at the altar.”

Liam froze as he watched the screen cut to an aerial shot of The Windsor Hotel’s chapel (courtesy of TMZ, the text on the corner of the screen read). A voice over was speaking. “Fans of super boyband One Direction have been left reeling after the wedding of Zayn Malik to his Little Mix sweetheart, Perrie Edwards, was called off. Sources at the wedding say Edwards uncovered evidence that her fiancé had been unfaithful to her. This is not the first time that Malik has been accused of infidelity.” Pictures of Zayn sleeping were displayed on screen, courtesy of Perezhilton.com. This was followed by grainy YouTube video footage of Zayn propositioning a fan. “Directioners have taken to Twitter to express their anger and have been sending messages of support to Malik while making threats to Edwards'.” They cut to the in-house reporter who was holding a page and reading from it. “These tweets are astounding and of such a graphic nature we cannot share them.” She put the page down. “Representatives of Zayn Malik and Perrie Edwards have declined to comment.”

Liam sat on the couch, his head still pounding. He got up, moving much quicker than he should to check on his phone. He went onto Twitter. #PerrieDumpedZayn was trending. He read a few tweets. From what he could gather Perrie and Zayn had argued right before the ceremony and she had called him a 'lying, cheating piece of shit' and run off Julia Roberts style. He got off Twitter and checked his text messages. There were a lot of texts from Niall.

“ _He's staying at mine_.” The most recent read. “ _Don't answer calls 4rm mgmt. right now”_ Liam scrolled past a few where Niall was informing him that the wedding had been called off _. “I think Perrie knows O_O”_ was the first message that had come in from Niall.

Liam checked his other messages. There was one from Perrie. “ _I hope fucking Zayn was worth it._ ” But no texts from Zayn. He rubbed at his neck before going back on Twitter. #PerrieTwitterCam was now trending. He went to his laptop and opened his private Twitter account from there. In her account Perrie was holding a Twitter cam session. She was still dressed in her wedding gown, her eyes racoon'ed with dark mascara smudges. The stream had five hundred and eighty thousand viewers already. He unmuted his laptop and turned up the sound

“…And regret it in the future,” Perrie finished saying. “But I figure screw it, it's my wedding day so what the hell? I'm going to do a song for my fans and I dedicate it to Zayn. Some of you might know it, it's Kesha's _Thinking of You_.” She fiddled with something off-screen and music began to play. _“Can I hit you later, cause it's my jam. Rollin in my beat up Gold Trans Am.”_ Liam scrolled down to read the comments. “Zayn's a lying cunt,” “i knew tho this wedding was not gonna happen,” “this is sooo fake,” “Perrie's voice is way better than Kesha's,” and “so da real truth about Zayn is that he's a cheater?”

“I know I said I wouldn't talk about you publicly but that was before I caught you lyin' and cheating on me, slut! I was down for you hard-core, while you were out trying to score. Found out you're full of it, I'm over it so suck my dick.”  Perrie finished singing and turned down the music. “I know everyone wants to know who Zayn was screwing behind my back.” She unpinned her bun letting her hair cascade over her shoulders. “I'll let you know it wasn't someone random. It was someone you all know well. I actually considered this person a friend.”

Liam's breath caught in his throat. The day had finally arrived. The Damocles' sword was sinking down onto his head. They were going to be outted. At least he wouldn't be living a lie anymore. Although, he would have liked to tell his parents himself that he wasn’t entirely straight. He braced himself and continued watching. There were eight hundred thousand viewers now tuned in. “I have found out that this person has hooked up with Zayn in more than one instance the most recent being three days ago.” She sniffed. “Well, I have two letters for this person. One of them is F and the other one is U.” Music began to play again and Perrie started to sing.

“ _Oh, you broke my heart, I told you I was weak for love,”_ Perrie sang. Liam sighed and read the new comments that had been posted.

“this is sooo entertaining,” “#embarrassing,” “ i wonder what mgmt is gonna cook up,” “Perrie pls follow me,” “Stay Strong, Perrie.”

“I've got two letters for you, one of them is F and the other is U. Cause what you gotta do is go get yourself a clue. Only two letters to choose, one of them is F and the other one's U. SMH, I'm pressing send on you,” Perrie belted out. She pulled up her two middle fingers up to the camera. “You know who you are, you piece of shit. Although I can't give your name today I will be sitting down with Wendy Williams on her show where I will be _telling all_. I'd like to thank my fans who have supported me through this difficult period and please do tune in to my interview. Thank you.” She ended the stream.

Liam released a breath he didn't know he had been holding and slumped on his chair. #SongsPerrieShouldSingToZayn was trending. The top track being recommended was Womanizer by Britney Spears. Liam closed Twitter, picked up his phone and dialled Niall.

“I need to speak to him,” Liam said as soon as Niall answered.

“He's not taking calls,” Niall said, his voice muffled on the other line.

“He will if it's me.” Liam curled his fingers around his iPhone. “I just want to check if he's okay.”

“Hold on for a sec.” There was faint murmuring on the end of the line then Niall was back. “He said he'll be in touch. Goodbye, Liam.” And then he hung up. Liam listened to static nothingness before he put his phone down.

He got up to raid his fridge. It was empty but it wasn't food he was looking for. He grabbed a bottle of wine Paul had got him as a housewarming present and which had sat in his fridge for the better part of his residence in his flat. He found a cork screw, opened the bottle, and drank straight from it, not bothering with a glass. He really shouldn't have gotten out of bed this morning.

 


	17. Five days Later

Meetings with management were always unpleasant, Liam thought as a robotic voice told him to come into the office at nine o'clock. Seeing Louis, Zayn, Niall, and Harry sitting in the boardroom when he arrived ten minutes late was unexpected. He took a seat at the furthermost seat from the door, beside Niall and across from Louis, but careful not to meet Louis' eyes after he mumbled a weak apology for being late. Simon and Richard walked in soon after, with smartphones in one hand and coffee in the other. They sat at the head of the table, facing the lads.

“We've convened here today to discuss the future prospects of One Direction,” Simon began. “Zayn has expressed his desire to terminate his contract, I'm sure you've heard by now. But as dreadful as these past days have been the interest in One Direction has never been higher. Richard has made a counter−offer with Zayn and he is going to extend this offer to the rest of you.”  Simon nodded at Richard.

“This new contract supersedes the previous one and has the following conditions,” Richard said. “One final album where every one of you will have executive producers’ rights. The percentage of royalties for the past and the new contract will increase by fifteen percent. One final tour limited to forty-five shows and an advance on the tour fee. Residuals to the film DVD and rental sales will also increase by fifteen percent.” Richard rested his steepled fingers on the table. “This is a fantastic offer. We know we can't make you take it, but we'll step out for a moment so you can decide as a group. We do, however, need a response today.” Richard and Simon got up, coffee and smartphones firmly fixed to their palms and they left, pulling the glass doors closed behind them. Liam sat back and waited for one of the others to speak.

“I say we take the offer,” Niall said as he leaned across the table to tap his knuckles on the table.

“Why am I surprised to hear that coming from you?” Harry said, sarcastically.

“Your big solo career plans will have to be put on hold for a few months, Harry. No need to be cunty if the rest of us want to make the most of this while we still can.” Niall replied.

“I say we vote on it,” Louis offered. “We do live in a democratic society, don't we?”

“I concur,” Zayn said.

“I second that,” Liam said. He hadn't looked at either Louis or Zayn directly since he walked in the room. Louis looked well. His hair was trimmed and the beard he'd favoured in the last few weeks shaved. Zayn looked really good. He was dressed in jeans and a simple black T-shirt, tattooed arms exposed. His hair was shaved short on the sides with the centre piled into a gleaming quiff.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Of course, you'll agree with anything that Zayn says. Don't forget he's the reason we're here in the first place.”

“I thought you wanted out of the band so Zayn quitting benefits you?” Liam said.

“I want an outcome that’s the most financially lucrative for me,” Harry said. “Releasing a solo album right now with no guarantee that it will be successful is risky.”

“Exactly. Like we always said and have known, we're stronger as a group,” Niall said. “So shall we vote? Everyone in favour of signing that new contract and remaining a band raise your hand.” Niall raised his hand. Louis followed suit. Harry looked at Louis, smiled and raised his hand. The corners of Louis's lips rose as he watched Harry lift his hand. Liam looked at Zayn, raising an eyebrow.

“We can't do this without you, Zayn,” Liam said raising his arm. They were all looking at Zayn and a collective sigh of relief was released when he raised his arm.

“So that's that. We’re still One Direction,” Niall bellowed like a stage announcer on

'One Direction'. “Thank fuck. I'm rather fond of you fuckers.”

“I guess we should tell Simon and Richard,” Louis said as he got to his feet. “Uh, Harry and Niall, care to accompany me?” Liam saw the sly smile on Niall's lips as he stood up. Harry gave him an encouraging nod and then they were up and walking out after Louis, leaving him and Zayn in the boardroom.

“So, the wedding got cancelled, huh?” Liam said lamely after a few awkward seconds of silence.

“Yeah,” Zayn said as he rocked on his chair.

“That must suck for Hello magazine. They really wanted that cover shoot.”

 That drew a smile from Zayn. “Yeah. That’s mad.”

“How did Perrie find out?” Liam asked, quietly.

“She recognised the earring that you were wearing. It's part of a set that she bought for me from Van Cleef and Arpels,” Zayn said. Liam reached to touch the stud that he still wore. “Sophia had asked her a few days back if she knew where you were on the weekend of the twenty-third. The same weekend I had disappeared. She then went through my phone and found those pictures of us kissing out in the snow.”

“But if she hadn't -- you still would have carried on with the wedding?” Liam dropped his hand down from his ear and onto the table. “You’d be married right now.”

“No, I wouldn't.” There was a scrape of a chair and Zayn was walking around the table to sit next to Liam.

“You wouldn't?” Liam asked.

Zayn sat beside him and placed a palm on Liam's cheek. “You never listened to my voice messages, did you?” A brilliant smile was breaking out on his face.

“My voicemail box crashed on the morning after.”

“Well, if you had, then you would have heard me calling to tell you that I'm utterly crazy about you and the idea of being away from you is the bleakest fate anyone could ever sentence me to.”

Liam's mouth dropped open. “But... Why wouldn't you take my calls?”

“I was in a dark place. Perrie was gearing up to out us to the world. I needed time to process things and I thought you were angry at me for not stepping up to the plate before-”

Liam cut off the rest of Zayn's words with a kiss. “You know I can't stay angry at you.” He sighed and looked down. “That stuff with Harry-”

“I get it. Not that I like it, but you were hurting and he was there for you before I was ready to admit what was really going on between us. Beside he's with Louis now so you have good old Tommo to contend with, and that's punishment enough.”

“Him and Louis?”

“In L.O.V.E, apparently.” Zayn looked at him with such fondness, it hurt. “You really have been out of it.”

“I've been hibernating in my flat. The only person I've spoken to is Ruth. I really didn't want to hear what Perrie was going to blurt out to the world.”

“Simon has put a gag order on her. She can't release your name.”

“What? What about her interview with Wendy Williams?”

“Cancelled. It was either that or she was going to get kicked out of Little Mix.”

Liam felt a pang of guilt. “That's hardly fair. We did run around behind her back.” Zayn was still looking so damn happy. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you have a kind heart,” Zayn kissed him once again, lingering to swipe into his mouth with his tongue. “Perrie's okay. She has a cover story on Cosmopolitan. Rimmel has made her their new spokesmodel. Her band's single is number one on iTunes. She's using this to further her career and any guilt you feel over the matter is misplaced. She may deny it but she knew what we were. We were never in love, not properly, but she was happy to go along with it because she got to be in the spotlight. Now she is finally at a place where I don't occupy ninety percent of it. Don’t sweat it.” Zayn punctuated the last three words with a kiss on Liam's bottom lip, another kiss on his top lip, and a kiss placed squarely on Liam's mouth.

“So it's me and you?” Liam asked, pulling away.

“Yes.” Zayn leaned in to kiss him again, but Liam thwarted his efforts by placing his hands on the centre of Zayn's chest.

“And I can have anything from you that I want?” Liam continued.

Zayn's eyes twinkled. “Anything.”

“Let’s just make this clear,” Liam whispered, his hands roaming over Zayn’s shoulders and pulling him into his embrace. “I want everything.”

 

####  THE END

 


End file.
